Breaking Boundaries
by GagaMidnight
Summary: John is not the only one left behind who is upset by Holmes' death. Irene Adler returns as she continues her career as an author but in her brilliant mind she knew something was not quite right about the roof. She also realises that she is still very much Sherlocked.
1. Title

A/N Since I wrote my version of A Scandal In Belgravia I have decided to continue on from Reichenbach using the Irene I had in my own version. So here it is. If you know me well you'll know that eventually it's going to be pure Sherlene.

Sunday, 17th June 2012

Nothing hurt John more than seeing his best friend jump from the roof of Saint Barts' hospital. He'd just been back from visiting Sherlock's grave. He swallowed when he saw who was sitting in Sherlock's chair. He never expected to see her again.

"Irene Adler, hi." John uttered.

"Irene is fine, Dr Watson. I came on the plane as soon as I found out. I am so sorry John."

"Do you believe what they say in the newspapers?"

"Of course I don't. I fired my PA because she did. It's...so...unreal."

"I know." replied John before sitting down. "It's Sherlock. He'd outlive God having the last word. But no, he jumped. He said to me that he was a fraud but I know he wasn't."

"He said to you that the papers were correct?" questioned Irene.

John nodded.

"I do not mean to be so indiscreet but..."

"No, ask me anything. Please. I need someone other than Mrs Hudson to believe in him. Ask me anything."

"Who did the autopsy?" asked Irene.

"Molly Hooper."

"Right." nodded Irene.

There was silence for a brief moment before Irene spoke again. "There is no other person who could have done this than Moriarty. But how could he get such information about Sherlock?"

"I'll give you one guess!" replied John.

"Mycroft." sighed Irene.

"Yeah." John sighed as well.

"His things are still here."

"Yeah. Mrs Hudson thought that his school would take it but they..."

"They believe the newspapers as well."

"Yeah. I'll just give it to charity ."

Irene removed a cheque book from her bag and began to write in it. "Irene..." began John.

"All his books. I'll take his equipment. And his books that he bought. My books."

"No, I don't want money for them."

"John, you are living in this flat with no form of employment and you are no longer splitting the rent with Sherlock and I know you will not bear to see anyone else live here. Please let me feel like I did one last thing for that wonderful man. I never got a chance to repay him."

"Do you want his violin as well?"

She nodded. "Yes."

"He never told you or anyone but he really likes you Irene. He really, really did. You like him too."

"Yes, I am Sherlocked. Do you mind if I visit..."

"No. Go anytime. He'd probably shout at me if I didn't."

Irene handed John the cheque. "I'll be back. I..."

"Thank you for coming I actually feel a little better."

She hugged John.

"I promise I'll come back to see you and I'll keep in touch."

When she had left John sighed heavily and closed his eyes.

* * *

Irene made her way up to the roof at Barts and she began to look around then some traces of blood caught her eye. "_Splash pattern suggests there was a lot_." she said aloud. "_Couldn't have been from Sherlock. He jumped. Someone else must have died up here. Moriarty? Why would Sherlock jump if Moriarty was dead?_"

"Excuse me who are you and what are you doing up here?" a female voice asked.

"My name is Irene Adler." replied Irene. "I'm a novelist."

"Molly Hooper. If you're looking to write a book on how Sherlock was a fraud , clear off."

"No. Not at all. Sherlock was never a fraud."

"Who are you?"

"Me? Irene Adler..."

"No. Who were you to Sherlock?"

"The Woman, I imagine."

"Pardon?"

"Private joke between Sherlock and I."

"_She's quick to use past tense." thought Irene. _

"I don't meant to be rude but could you leave?"

"Blood is funny. I mean funny as in strange. No matter how hard you try and clean it up, it always leaves a trace. Sometimes visible sometimes not unless you use UV light."

"I don't know what you mean."

"Do you not, Miss Hooper? OK then. Thank you for your time."

Irene left and made her way back to street level. She looked at the ground where Sherlock should have landed. Then her phone alert went off. She picked it up. **"Pretend you found nothing of interest up there."**

Irene's eyes widened. _"Is that him?"_

Irene swallowed and made her way back to Baker Street to find John with another visitor. Mycroft Holmes. "Miss Adler I was not expecting to see you. How are you after settling back in in New Jersey?"

"Most fine. I even received a pardon a few months down the line. I thank you for your apology."

"We didn't suspect Norton because of his Golden boy record."

"Clearly. Is he in prison?"

"No we couldn't find him."

"Oh. John I'll get boxes for everything then I'll get them transported to America."

"Thanks Irene." John smiled weakly.

"Are you going to be writing another book?"

"Almost finished one actually."

"What's it about?" John asked.

"I can't say I am sworn to secrecy by my publisher."

"Oh."

"But I will send you a copy before everyone else. Don't worry." smiled Irene.

"Can you tell me what it's called?" asked John.

"Breaking Boundaries." she replied.

"Will you be continuing it in a series as you did with The Detective and The Ice Bullet?" asked Mycroft.

"No. Why are you so interested?"

"No reason. You were very kind to take Sherlock's things. Any particular reason?"

"Don't mock me Mr Holmes. I am not in the mood to endure it and my words can hurt more than weapons."

Mycroft stood up and left. "I don't like him either." spoke John.

"Neither does Sherlock."

"Yeah." replied John, noticing the present tense but not wanting to correct her.

Irene sat down on the sofa. "Did he ever change the ringtone I put on his phone when I had gone for good?"

"No. But you rarely texted him after that."

"I didn't think that he wanted me to."

"He always called you THE Woman on the occasion he brought you up. Nothing else. He stopped calling you Miss Adler."

Irene smiled. "Is that a good or a bad thing."

"With Sherlock it was probably good."

Irene stood up. "I think I should check into the hotel now."

"Oh. Yeah. Of course, you look tired."

"Anything you need John. I am but a phone call away. Or an email."

She handed John a card. "Get in touch with me anyway you like using the details on this card."

"Thank you Irene."

"I'll take his forensic kit and violin with me just now and that'll get some of it out your way."

"Yes. Of course."

* * *

When night time came Irene made her way back up to Saint Barts' roof and checked for blood with the UV light. She nodded at what she found and then left. On her way downstairs she got a text. **"You need to stop."**

She put her phone back in her coat and when she got back to the hotel she heard her phone alert go off again. **"You should sleep, after all such a flight from New Jersey without it can only be exhausting." **

Irene locked her door and then she sat on the edge of her bed and thought.

* * *

Wednesday, July 25th - London

Irene had went back to New Jersey for a while but she was back again in London for the launch of her new book. She sat in Waterstones reading out her first chapter to the customers as they listened intently to her every word, but despite the enthusiasm of her readers, the book meant nothing anymore. It all felt like it was a waste of her time. Since meeting Sherlock Holmes she realised he was the only one who really appreciated every bit of detail she put into it. Everyone one in that room at that moment in time, would not enjoy being wrong about their guess at the beginning about what was happening. Sherlock Holmes had enjoyed it. He had enjoyed being challenged. He had enjoyed being able to play the game.

Everyone clapped when she'd finished reading it and then for ten minutes she had a break before she went to signing the books. "Could you put THE Woman instead in your author note?" her last reader asked her his accent American.

She didn't look up but she swallowed and almost dropped her pen but she composed herself. "Of course sir. Enjoy the analysis."

"I always do." he replied.

She looked up and saw the man standing before her. He was wearing dark sunglasses which hid his eyes, he was wearing a rather hideous hat to hide his hair, dark blue jeans, brown boots and a simple t-shirt and he was putting on a very convincing American accent that only she could tell was fake. The look did not suit him but she didn't care it meant that he was alive. Sherlock Holmes was alive and in front of her he stood taking the now signed book from her hands.

"I'm hungry, let's have dinner." he said to her.

TBC


	2. Dedication

Irene and Sherlock sat at the back of a restaurant, away from the other customers while they ate. They were both silent for a long time, barely exchanging a word and then Irene spoke. "Moriarty is dead isn't he?"

"Yes."

"Then why did you jump? It was not to hide from the police or because you couldn't live the life you were living with people disbelieving in you. You love yourself too much for a start to care about how other people think."

"Why don't you think Miss Adler."

"You had no choice. You were being threatened. Most likely it was something to do with John. You jumped to save him but you knew there was a chance Moriarty was going to do that. Threaten you. So you took precautions. Somehow you survived the fall, and escaped. Most likely with the aid of the pathologist Molly Hooper. If you had a funeral it must be Moriarty's body in your grave."

"Oh I love you." Holmes stated. Then he blinked. "I did not mean that."

"Of course you didn't."

"I was merely saying that..."

"I understand Mr Holmes. Very much. You just meant that I'm brilliant. Why would you love anyone other than yourself?"

"Exactly."

"Fine."

"Good."

"If you'd not went to see John and had not investigated the roof would you have believed me a fraud?" Sherlock asked just as the waiter approached.

"Thank you. Can I have bill please?"

"Of course." the waiter replied.

"Well?" asked Sherlock.

"I can't believe you have the audacity to ask me that!" she snapped.

The waiter came back and she paid. Sherlock stayed sitting as she stood up. "Aren't you coming?" she asked.

Sherlock got up and followed. "I am not a dog." he stated as he followed her out of the restaurant, keeping to his American accent.

He found himself in Irene's hotel room. "You should get some sleep I can't imagine you have in a long time."

She turned around to find he had removed his hat and shades. She swallowed as she could see his eyes. They were bloodshot and his removing his disguise did not help as it enforced it was **him** that looked so weak. It hurt her heart to see him like that.

"You have two rooms. Did you know I was coming?" he asked with his normal voice.

"No it was for my latest PA. I fired him."

"You didn't answer my question in the restaurant."

"Moriarty was after me. So was your brother and..."

"It could have all been fake."

"Why?"

"I think you did think I was a fraud at first and that was why you never came looking for me. After all you knew I was alive."

"Will you stop it?" she asked almost crying. "You are nothing but a bastard!"

"I do not need to listen to this! Excuse me while I read this wonderful book."

He turned the first page and read the dedication. **"To Sherlock Holmes. I will always believe in you."**

He swallowed. "They asked me what I wanted in my dedication. The same day I found out about the circumstances of your death."

"I am so sorry. I am so very very sorry."

"Why can't you accept the fact that people care about you? Or that people somewhere believe you? Why can't you accept the fact that you are liked? Don't be so damn childish."

He hung his head and sat on the sofa. Irene sighed and sat beside him. "You are the one man I trust with my life. I believe in you. Is it too much to ask for you to believe in me? Now my guess is you have came to me to get you out of the country. I suggest you be my PA I need one but I keep firing them all and it means that..."

"Being your PA. What does that involve?"

"Being with me all the time. Keeping me on schedule. Looking at my letters and handling my stalkers. Helping me with my book. Coming to parties with me. Dining with people. Sometimes I even help solve crimes. As PA you do everything with me."

"What is in it for me?"

"Constant entertainment on your level, while blending in normally, telling me thing I need to know, helping me solve cases a i said, and you get to point out stalkers."

"I can't get out of the country."

"Oh. I'll soon handle that. All you need is some alteration to your passport."

"How? Mycroft will find..."

"You forget I'm good at many things Mr Holmes."

"You are not going to hack passports are you?"

She smiled. "It means you'll need to stick around for a while and if you don't mind I'll be getting you a new wardrobe."

"Suits."

"Yes with ties."

"I'm not wearing ties."

"Yes you are and you're not wearing that stupid hat you were wearing. I'll comb it out and straighten it. Since we'll not be in America or Britain much, I hardly think there is too much need for you to wear too much disguise."

"You just know what to do all the time. How?" Sherlock asked bewildered.

"Because I am good at many things. Get some sleep." she replied tapping his shoulder. She kissed his cheek and stood up before taking out her laptop from the drawer. She looked over to him as he began to move toward the room. He was vulnerable looking and it was not the man she knew. But she could tell that the experience on the roof had affected him beyond even his comprehension and he survived. Now that he'd survived she didn't want him to go and leave her, and that was why she suggested him to be her PA. He didn't argue it too much though.

The Sherlock she knew would have questioned it more than he did, but that man was tired, he'd not eaten much and his eye were weak. She was beginning to realise that she'd not lost her feelings for him that she'd had. _"I'm just holding onto straws now." she thought. _

"Sherlock I'm just going out." she said suddenly, before putting the laptop down. The passport would have to wait. "I'll be back soon! When we get back we need to think of an alias for you."

When she'd gone Sherlock got up from lying down and began to look around her hotel room. He walked over to her bag and removed a notepad. It was written in shorthand. He threw it back in and found a PDA that was passworded. He then removed a box of sleeping tablets that had been newly prescribed. He blinked. _"She's still stressed and not sleeping."_

He put them back in her bag and then went back to his room. Unlike Adler he did not need sleeping tablets to sleep.

TBC


	3. The Guide And The Learner

Sherlock woke up in the middle of that night, breathing heavily. He was not one for talking about his dreams, but this time round, he felt ill because of them. He got up and walked into the living area of the hotel suite to find that the light was on and Irene was already up. "I'd give you my sleeping tablets but I don't think they work anymore." she told him.

He sat down beside her. "Perhaps that's incase you drug people's tea." he commented.

They laughed and she subconsciously rested her head on his shoulder. She was tired, but she still couldn't sleep. She was beginning to worry she had insomnia. If Sherlock were to complain about the position of herself, she'd remove her head from his shoulder but he did not speak at all.

"You can't sleep either." pointed out Irene.

"On and off. I don't normally sleep anyway. By the looks of it you've not been sleeping either."

"Yeah. Haven't slept properly in months."

"You stopped texting me. Why?"

"Were you disappointed?" asked Irene with a smile.

"No." he said quickly. "I found it out of character for you that's all."

"I got busy and my publishers were demanding I hurry up with my story. I'd missed a couple of months because of your brother."

"Until you blackmailed him."

"In philosophy it's known as appeal to pity."

He tutted. Sherlock opened up the book of discussion and turned to chapter one. He was going to begin reading. "The Guide and The Learner?" he questioned.

"Yes. It's the start of Kelly's aspirations. Her father is the guide. Her mentor in other words. He inspires her to become marine. She is the learner."

"She's five years old." complained Sherlock.

"Obviously she grows up during the story. Why don't you read it."

"I don't like five year olds. They are annoying."

"Then why do you act like one then?"

He went to answer her but could not find a good one to her comment. "I did read the chapter to everyone in the book store."

"I came in when I saw everyone clapping."

"Oh." nodded Irene.

Silence fell, and eventually Sherlock and Irene fell asleep.

* * *

When morning came Sherlock opened his eyes and realised that he was still on the sofa. Irene was still sleeping on his shoulder. He was going to try and get up off the sofa without waking her but there was a knock at the door which woke her up.

Without even acknowledging Sherlock she answered the door. "Hello."

"I'm looking for Irene Adler." a female voice said.

"Yes, that's me. How did you know I was staying..." she began.

"I'm a reporter for the Daily Mail. May I come in?"

"It's early in the morning." replied Irene.

"All the better. I can get you before all the other journalists."

Sherlock walked into his room and closed the door. He wanted nothing more than to help Irene with the journalist, but he couldn't risk being caught. He opened up his wardrobe and began to look through the clothes Irene had put in his wardrobe when she thought he was sleeping.

"I don't speak to journalists. My publisher..."

"It's not about the books." the journalist replied before pushing passed Irene and inside. "It's about Sherlock Holmes."

"What about him?"

"Your dedication was to him."

"Yes."

"What do you know about him?"

Irene was going to speak but she heard Sherlock speak in his American accent from the room. "Irene, we have a schedule, you should tell your guest to leave or we'll be late for our train."

"Oh I am sorry." the journalist spoke. "Male PA?"

"Yes."

"In a relationship with him?"

"None of your business. Could you leave so I can get dressed. If you want to speak to me make an appointment with my PA. Details will be on my website for you to do that in two weeks."

The journalist walked out and Irene locked the door. Sherlock walked out of the room, dressed in his new clothes. His shirt was not buttoned the whole way up, and he was holding his tie in his hand as he looked at it scathingly.

"Look at you. You're a right mess." she stated before walking over to him and doing up his top buttons. She put the tie around his neck and tied it for him.

"It's too tight." he told her.

"Don't be a baby." she replied before grabbing a comb from the table and combing his hair.

"Better." she smiled once she was done.

"I am not a child you know. You don't have to treat me like one."

"I tell you what dear I will stop treating you like a child when you start behaving like one."

She walked into her room, closing the door behind. Sherlock assumed she'd went in to get changed into her own clothes and he began to look out the hotel window. An hour later Irene walked out of the room. "Now I am awake now let's get down to business."

She walked over to the sideboard and opened the cupboard before pulling out a box. She sat it on the coffee table. "What's that?" he asked.

She smiled at him before pulling out a box with the 'apple' logo on it. She handed it to Sherlock. "New iPhone for your leisure and your work. It's a contract. Unlimited calls, texts, and internet."

She then pulled out a PDA. "This will be your organizer where you store dates and such for appointments. I never take any appointments before nine o'clock in the morning or after eight pm at night. I don't do weekends unless told three weeks in advance. As my PA it is your job to differentiate from stalkers, journalists, and people who are really interested. You are also in charge of taking notes for me as I do my research for my next book. If journalists are to phone you I am always busy regardless of everywhere I am free or not. During the times when I **'stumble' **across cases then you'll be more than just my PA. You'll be my partner. I hope unlike my other PAs that you'll not insult Sherlock Holmes and that you'll perhaps even contribute to my book, but not criticize unless you find a fault that really must be fixed. Like dates, years, names, weapons and so and so forth."

"How do you keep all that in your brain?" Sherlock asked.

"I don't know. I just do. You ready to go?"

"Where are we going?"

"You tell me. Look at your PDA."

"How do I switch this thing on?"

She laughed and walked over to him. "You poor little boy." she said as she switched it on for him.

"Apparently we're going to Tate Modern. A museum?"

"Yes. I want to look around if you don't mind. Oh wait you don't have a choice. I'm your boss."

"Don't rub it in. When do I get my passport."

"I need to wait until they arrive at their destination which is you friend Molly's address. It takes a couple of weeks but we have things to do here."

"It says on the PDA that we're going to the Mint hotel."

"Problem?"

"Why are we going to a different hotel?"

"Because this one couldn't keep me the full two months we're going to be here therefore we're going there. You just keep me on schedule. So look at the times of what's on and tell me what we're doing first?"

"You know what we're doing first."

"Bear with me I am teaching you."

"I think most likely we'll be moving to the Mint hotel first."

She ruffled his hair up again. "Good bye. I might buy you a treat."

"You're very mocking."

"Oh don't be a baby. Come on. My case is in my room, go and get it."

"Do PAs do that?"

She put her hands on her hips and drew him an obvious look. "Regardless you are a gentleman."

He sighed and walked to her room to get the case, as Irene tried to force herself not to find amusement in the situation. _"How long before old Sherlock comes back. Why is he such a pushover?"_

When he came out of her room dragging it along he drew her a look. "Thank you dear." she said. "At least it's black and not pink."

"Don't start."

"Oh that's right. Pink suitcase. Study in Pink. John's blog. I must say I'll miss his blog now that you're dead."

Her phone rang. "Speaking of the lovely man."

She answered it. "Hello John. How are you dear?...Well of course...I don't care. He means more to me than what my customers or what the press think..."

Sherlock drew her a smug look and she rolled her eyes. "Well Sherlock Holmes was someone that you couldn't hate or like either...Yes he was...When?...I'll just check with my PA that I'll be free..."

She put her hand over the microphone on her mobile. "John wants to know if I'm free for this afternoon at half past seven for drinks with him and his new girlfriend Mary. Be a dear and check."

"Yes." he replied.

"Thank you."

She went back to her phone call. "Yes I am free...I look forward to it...Perhaps, Mary is what you need...I'll see you later."

She ended the call. "Oh and if my phone rings and I can't answer it you answer it for me. In your American accent and your new alias as I put on your passport is Sam Mock-Seller."

"Oh for God sake!"

Irene laughed. "Oh deary me. You didn't think I'd choose that. No. Your name is Anthony Bryant."

"I preferred Mock-Seller."

"Tuff." she replied.

TBC

A/N Thanks for the reviews everyone. Hope you are enjoying summer and stuff. Also thanks to anonymous, for your little piece of advice. Every now and then I need it! :)


	4. Crossing The Line

"How was John?" Sherlock asked when Irene stepped in the door, after being with John and Mary for hours. It was half past ten at night.

Irene blinked. "Yes. John was fine."

"New girlfriend?"

"Yes."

"Serious?"

"Yes. She's very pretty. Has long brown curly hair, and the most pretty green eyes. She's got a sweet temperment."

"I didn't ask about her appearance or temperament." he stated before picking his book up. Irene could see he'd not read far into it.

"Chapter one still?"

"Just started chapter two. Crossing the line. Hmm."

"You don't like my book do you?"

"Not had time been organising my PDA into time and date. I also phoned up Molly and spoke to her about the passports. Played chess online using your laptop. You should put a passport on it but then again, it'll probably easy to guess because it will be something to do with sentiment. With you it always is. That's your problem. That's why you'll never be able to put your brains to use! Your heart rules your head. No wonder you were a walking target for stalkers trying to kill you. Yes, I read about it. The only reason you survived was because you're moderately clever and the adrenaline rush helped you use self defence..."

Irene swallowed and blinked. She was close to tears. "You know what, you'll enjoy chapter two. Crossing the line. You'll finally find something to relate to the character with, after all that's all you're good at. You're not happy unless you are insulting someone, bringing up painful memories or even reducing someone to absolute tears and misery. But I know why. Because you are in constant misery I think. You spend your life alone, and your problem right now is you are not with the one person who was kind enough to put up with you and you miss him! I'm sorry I'm not him! But yet you came to me. You needed me! So why..."

"Because I trust you. You're moderately clever."

"Have you had anything to eat?" Irene asked Sherlock.

"No. I'm not hungry." he replied as he read her book. He had a look on his face that was so pitiable, that made Irene feel so sorry for him, even after the way he'd treated her a few moments before. She still was not going to let him get away with treating her the way that he did. He was acting like nothing was happening after his comments and it really annoyed her.

"I'm sorry." he said before she could tell him off. "What I said I shouldn't have. You're the last person I meant to insult."

He wasn't going to stand up and kiss her on the cheek the way he did with Molly. Something told him not to. Once he'd finished the second chapter, he put the book down and made his way into his room. Irene sighed and tidied up the mess he'd left around the suite before sitting down.

* * *

The next morning she woke up on the sofa, to find Sherlock putting coffee on the coffee table for her. "Morning." he told her.

"Morning." she replied blinking as the sun hit her eyes.

"You don't have any appointments today."

"Dull." she said.

"Since there is none, we can talk about something important."

"OK." nodded Irene as Sherlock sat on the sofa in front of her.

"Moriarty's network. I need to take them down but I go ahead with this PA thing for three years, then surprise attack them."

"You need my help."

"Yes. I just need to know that you'll be on my side when I need you."

"Yes. I will be."

"It's just, I think that the leader of Moriarty's network now could well be..."

"Norton." Irene finished

"How?"

"Who else in Moriarty's clique, would arise a concern between you and I?"

"I love you." Sherlock said. He blinked and Irene laughed. "I did not mean to say that. What I meant was..."

"I knew what you meant. You were just getting me confused with your mirror."

He looked away from her eyes afraid he'd get lost in them as he usually did. There was something about her eyes that was kind yet pleading to Sherlock. She was alone, and afraid just like him and they both did not want to show it. Whether they liked it or not they were so very similar and whether he liked it or not, Sherlock was having to accept he was human. He did so when he was about to jump. He even cried despite knowing that he wasn't going to die, and he compared himself to other people with the 'note'.

"I hear that the restaurant downstairs does nice food for breakfast." Sherlock spoke.

"I'm hungry let's have breakfast." she quipped.

He pulled her up off of the sofa. "Wait a minute I need to get changed."

"You're fine the way you are."

"Thank you."

"It's the only compliment you'll get."

"I can imagine."

* * *

At breakfast Sherlock's mood returned back to its usual deductive and destructive self. After he had sat across from Irene he had pointed out many facts about everyone around him, and he had expected her to join in. He warned the waiter not to steal Irene's bank card details and that he would be watching his every move - he had previous in prison apparently. To make matters worse, several men and women had approached her for an autograph and he'd scrutinised them.

When they got back upstairs Irene folded her arms and sighed.

"Why?" she asked exasperated.

"Pardon. Why what?"

She laughed with anger "I can't wait until your passport comes. You need to get moved out of this country. You could have blown your cover! "

"What do you want me to do? Say sorry?"

"So you should be!"

"What? I just apologised to you...Woman!"

"No you didn't, you asked if it would be acceptable. Don't even bother!"

For two weeks there was iciness between Irene and Sherlock. It was so bad, that Irene was pleased when she came back from an interview to find Sherlock on her laptop, with passports beside her.

"Good job we got these you've got an appointment with your publisher in two days time."

Irene scoffed at the idea and sat down. She caught Sherlock staring at her absent mindedly and she frowned. "Have I got something on my shirt or..."

"What? No. Why?"

"You were staring at me..."

"Was I?"

"Yes."

"If I wanted to stare at you, I would stare at the photo of you on the inside of the cover."

Irene stood up and walked to the window. "So. New Jersey. Do you think you will like it."

"Why would I like it?"

"I don't know. It's a nice place." Irene replied. "We're known as the Garden State."

Sherlock drew her a look to tell her he didn't care and she sat down again. "Well then I expect that you've arranged travel."

"Yes." he replied coolly.

"OK." she nodded.

"What is in New Jersey?"

Irene looked up with widened eyes. "It doesn't matter. When do we leave for our flight?"

"Tonight.

"What time?"

"21 hundred hours. Flight is at a midnight."

"OK then."

* * *

Midnight

Sherlock was drumming his hands on his knees and it was irritating Irene completely. "You're thirty five years old. Behave like you are please?"

"I'm bored!"

"There is a five year old four seats up who is less restless than you are!" she hissed.

"Yes but he's not got a mind of such thinking capacity that he has to use. He's not craving a cigarette, or something stronger and he certainly is not wishing he was leaning over a dead body right now!"

"Let's play a game." suggested Irene. "How about we play I spy but it's deductions and the other person says who those deductions are relating to."

"Want to make bets?"

"US Dollars or Sterling?" she asked.

"Well we're still on British soil." he replied.

Irene smiled but sadly it was wiped away as the game lasted barely an hour.

"Excuse me can I get you or your husband something to drink?" a stewardess asked Irene.

"I'll have a gin and tonic and could you get him some gripe water." she replied.

"I'm not a child!" Sherlock defended.

"Stop acting like one."

The stewardess smiled nervously and Irene drew her an apologetic look. "A gin and tonic for me and just bring him water."

The waitress nodded and walked away.

A few moments passed before Irene and Sherlock spoke. "Did she say you were my husband?" Irene asked as Sherlock asked "Did she say I was your husband?"

"God no." uttered Irene.

"Never ever."

"Glad we've got that settled then."

"Good."

"Fine."

"Your drinks." the stewardess spoke as she handed them to Irene and Sherlock. "Going home then?"

"Yes." Irene smiled.

"I've just realised you're Irene Adler. You wrote The Detective and the Ice Bullet. My favourite book of that series but I loved the last one. A murder in code. Especially because of Mock-Seller."

"Thank you." Irene smiled.

"It would probably be inappropriate of me to ask but I have your new book with me. Would you sign it?"

"Of course." Irene replied.

"Thank you. Anything you need let me know."

When she was gone Sherlock had to ruin Irene's moment of happiness. "You do know that no one really likes you for being you. They like you because you wrote a book that was publicly published."

Irene frowned.

"But I...I...well...I know you...I li...like you for who you really are."

Irene laughed. "You poor baby you can't speak properly."

Sherlock rolled his eyes and looked out of the window. Suddenly Irene put her hand over the hand he wasn't holding his glass with. "Thank you Sherly Mock-Seller Anthony Bryant."

Sherlock turned around to face her and his eyes locked with hers. He felt something in his chest, but he couldn't explain it. He just forced a smile and then drank his water.

TBC


	5. Closing The Heart

After hours more on the plane with Sherlock, they finally landed in Newark. Irene had not had an easy flight. Sherlock had been restless the whole way, and because Irene had to keep him in line and stop him from annoying the other passengers, she couldn't have allowed herself to fall asleep, despite her exhaustion and lack of it. As they waited on their luggage Sherlock was pointing out people who were getting pulled in by security because of drug possession, potentially dangerous items and for being down right suspicious. But Sherlock had to disagree with the last one.

"Couldn't be a terrorist or anything. He's not a man who is special, connected or anything else. His watch is broken. He can barely afford to get it fixed. It's been like that for a month now. Jeans are three years old and he's lost weight since buying them. Stress most likely. I could go on but I think you've noticed too. Amateurs. Not spotting trouble. I wonder how long he saved up for the ticket. All his family are dead."

Irene picked up her case. She was going to ignore him after the way he'd treated her on the flight. "Are you still not speaking to me?"

She didn't reply.

"I'll take that as a yes then." Sherlock continued while Irene continued onwards. He walked with her and took her case off of her. "I'll carry that for you."

"Did you know that Newark is one of the biggest cities in New Jersey?" Irene asked.

"No."

"Didn't think so. How about I take that phone of yours, and I let you go out into that city which you do not know anything about, and you can get lost. Then I'll never have to put up with you again."

"You'd come looking for me. You're too kind to people."

"Would I? Want to test that theory?"

"I'm bored, let's go see your publisher and get this over with."

"Jenna is not for another twenty four hours. It's half past ten in the morning and whatever time zone you look, I've not slept for hours and hours. Because of you!"

Sherlock looked down at the floor and grinded his teeth. "I don't see what your problem is."

"Then I won't tell you because if you can't see it with your famous detective skills then chances are you won't understand if I do tell you."

Irene walked into the toilets, when they were close to exiting the airport. Sherlock stood outside bored and tired, while he waited on Irene coming out. Irene stood at a sink in the toilets, and began to splash cold water on her face, as she recalled the discussion with Sherlock she had had on the plane.

"_This is stupid!" Sherlock exclaimed while he read Irene's chapter 'Closing the Heart'. _

_Irene looked over to him and sighed. _ _"Why is it stupid?"_

"_One death and she wants to kill herself. Stupid. Definitely stupid."  
_

"_Why? Because her heart was broken?"_

_"Who cares about her heart. I preferred your other books. More deduction. More care for the Science of Deduction. This? Well this is boring and quite frankly it's ordinary."_

"_I've not got to the deduction yet because I'm showing how Kelly goes from a sweet, afraid, and needing girl to a closed heart, who stops trusting after one relationship goes wrong, even though she's in love with someone else, despite her denying it to herself. But she wanted to kill herself because she lost her father. Her only living relative left. The one man who tutored and cared for her. He was her mentor. It's for him that __**she **__became a marine. She became strong willed and brave, but her heart is cold because she's scared to have it broken again."_

"_Oh please tell me there is not going to be a romance!"_

"_You know what just put the book with the garbage you obviously don't want to read it!"_

"_I do! I want deduction, that's all!... Why are you crying?"_

"_Shut up! Don't speak to me for the rest of the flight!" _

Irene dried her face with a paper towel before leaving the toilets. Sherlock went to speak to her when he saw her but she just turned away from him and began walking. Sherlock followed until they were outside.

"Woman!" he shouted.

Irene looked around to him and sighed. "What?"

He swallowed. "It doesn't matter."

"Obviously not. It's something you have to say."

"That was uncalled for."

"Was it, really? You can't leave a point after you've started and you tear, and tear and tear away at it, and the same time you tear into people's feelings. You're like a dog with a bone, once you've got a grip of it, you don't let go until you've finished. "

"I didn't mean to insult your book. I'm sorry. It's lovely writing."

"It's not about the book."

"Then what?"

"I told you already, if you can't see it, you'll not understand or you just won't care."

They got a taxi to Irene's loft apartment. As soon as they reached the top floor where Irene's apartment was Sherlock sighed. "Why do you have to remain silent? I've no one else to talk to and as far as I'm aware I'm the only one who is meant to not talk for long periods of time."

"Oh so it's alright for you to not talk to people but it's not alright for people not to talk to you when you want to talk?"

"That's not…not…that's…not what I mean." he stuttered out as he tried to defend himself. Irene smiled a wry smile that said 'I knew it' before opening the door and stepping inside.

When he got inside he looked at the pile of mail on her floor. Irene quickly picked it up and put it in an empty box she had near the door. He smiled. He could tell she'd planned it being there. It was one of the things he admired about her. She usually thought ahead.

"That was a good idea." he complimented, as he tried to break the ice. She nodded but didn't reply. He followed her into the large open spaced living area of the downstairs part of the loft. There was a piano, a dining table, a kitchen area, and there were sofas, and armchairs, along with a television. At the big window was a desk which Sherlock assumed Irene used for writing.

He looked to the stairs and noticed Irene was walking up them. "Your room is across from mine. First one of the left." she stated. "I think you'll find everything you need in there."

He walked upstairs and opened his room door. He looked around and saw a periodic table on the wall –his periodic table- and next to the double bed was a nightstand with an alarm clock which was his alarm clock. He could tell it was his because of a mark in the right hand corner in the top.

On the bed was a violin case. He opened it up and saw it was his violin and he smiled.

Irene walked in at that moment. "You look like a little boy who has found out his mother and father has got him that car set he wanted for Christmas."

He ignored her remark. "What have you got all my clothes as well?" asked Sherlock as he opened the wardrobe. He laughed when he saw she did.

"I bought all your stuff from John as an excuse to give him some money to keep him. I was sad when I realised your coat wasn't there."

"It's on me where it belongs."

"You'll have to alternate your coats however."

"I've only got the one though."

"I'll buy you some more." she replied.

"But you've spent…"

"You're my PA it's your wages. By the way, the room next door has your chemistry set."

Irene walked over to another door in Sherlock's room and opened it. "In here's your bathroom. Pretty much everything you need to know. Get some sleep. If we're going to see Jenna then we're going to need all the sleep we can get. She's horribly incorrigible and impatient. If she had her way I would be writing a book an hour. I don't even think I want to go straight into writing another book. I want a break. I've made my money from the ones I've done so far."

"Tell her that."

"I might."

"I'll have your back."

"What?"

"I've got your back. Tell her what you want and I mean **what you want**."

"OK." she nodded. "I will."

Sherlock's mobile rang. "Jenna is calling it says."

"Yes. She'll phone you because you're my PA now. She's gathered that. I emailed and told her. She'd been nagging me for a long time to get a new PA. Go on answer it. Find out what she wants."

Sherlock answered it. "Yes."

Irene shook her head. Sherlock mouthed 'what?', and then he winced and took the phone away from his ear.

"You shouldn't have answered yes."

"Sorry."

"Not your fault."

Sherlock put it to his ear. "Sorry I thought that you were a different Jenna. My sister is called Jenna and you know how siblings can be…You're an only child…Actually she's busy."

Irene nodded.

"Doing what?"

Irene shrugged and mouthed. 'Make something up!"

"Can I take a message?...Wait a minute she's been thirteen hours on a flight at the least, and you want her to come and see you earlier than you told her? Not happening. In fact don't expect her until the twenty eight of September…Sorry the line is breaking up I can't hear you."

He ended the call and Irene folded her arms. "Well. I'd be lucky if I have a publisher after this."

"Does it matter? There are far more other than her. Twenty three to be exact."

"How…"

"There was a letter on the sideboard as you opened the door into the hallway. It was from Sparrow. Another publisher. On it they had stated you'd twenty two offers from other publishing companies, add on Sparrow companies it's twenty three. Don't feel the need to say that amazing or anything."

"I don't." she replied before walking out of the room.

"You look terrible, you should sleep!"

"Yeah. Whatever."

* * *

Irene woke up at six o'clock in the evening to hear Sherlock playing the violin. She'd finally been getting a decent sleep as well.

She got up and walked downstairs to find him pacing her floor, with the musical instrument. "Your hair is a bit messy." he commented.

"Thank you." Irene replied sarcastically. There was a knock at the door.

"Irene open this door immediately."

"Jenna." sighed Irene.

Irene walked to the door and opened it. Jenna stepped in and Sherlock finally saw her in person. She had long blonde wavy hair, and brown eyes. Sherlock glanced at her and noted as much as he could about her.

"You don't get the right to reschedule appointments. I give you a time to meet me, you meet me thn and three! Are we clear?"

She turned to Sherlock before Irene could answer. "Will you stop playing that trivial instrument before I break it."

Sherlock's eyes widened but he didn't stop. He never did as he was told, off of John or Mrs Hudson. He'd certainly not obey a woman he didn't know who had just walked uninvited into Irene's apartment.

"No." Sherlock replied.

"Who do you think you are? You can't say no to me. My business gets the money to your boss who pays your wages."

"No it just prints copies of her books and sends them to bookshops which get her money. The rest of it is her work."

"What's your name?" snapped Jenna.

"This is Anthony Bryant." introduced Irene before Sherlock could speak again.

Jenna sat down on Irene's sofa. "So, let's discuss your next book."

"I don't think I am ready to write another book yet. I've only just finished three weeks of promoting 'Breaking Boundaries' in the UK."

"You've got to start sometime."

"Why? Because your commission is going to pay off your husband's gambling debt?" asked Sherlock. "She's not a dog. You can't tell her what and what not to do. She's got free will."

"You PA types are always the same. Get immediately attached the moment one author gives you a job. I've seen your type before. Cheekbones, dark straggly hair…You look like you've just got out of school."

Sherlock stopped playing. "People like you play the violin because you have nothing else better to do with your time. No friends. That's what a male PA is. They are either gay or completely utterly not wanted by anyone else."

"Jenna. Stick it." Irene spoke.

"What?" asked Jenna.

"Take your company and stick it. Get out of my apartment now!"

"What?"

"I SAID GET OUT! You'd no right saying that to Sh…Anthnoy. Now get out! Don't come back."

"But…"

"NOW!"

Jenna couldn't have left fast enough. "Why?" Sherlock asked.

"Because I can't stand people mocking you like that."

"You do it all the time."

"Yes well that's different." Irene smiled. "But could you stop playing the violin? I am not saying your playing is terrible I just have a bad headache."

"Since you asked nicely." he replied before putting it on the coffee table.

"Oh Sherlock, could you put it upstairs away in its case? I don't want my table scratched."

Sherlock picked it up and walked upstairs with a sigh. "You look like a little boy who's been told to stop playing his video game."

"Yeah whatever!"

Irene walked to her desk and sighed as she switched on the computer. "Sherlock. We've got a case!" she announced a little while later as she read the news on the online newspaper.

"What?" Sherlock asked running downstairs. "Did you get a phone call?"

"Phone call?"

"Yes. Phone call. The police, they contact you?"

"Not really, it's just when I say that I solve crimes and help the police out, they don't ask me for it. I solve the case, put the evidence on the Captain's desk and sign my name in a letter."

"I love you."

Irene smiled and then she kissed Sherlock's cheek before standing up. "I know what you meant."

TBC

* * *

A/N Sorry for late update.


	6. Eager To Impress

"Why aren't we investigating this case?" Sherlock asked. "It's a triple murder. Something fun is going on and we're missing out on it."

"Sherlock, I understand that you need to keep playing the game but could you please bear in mind that it's not fun for the families of the victims."

"Is that why we're not going?" Sherlock asked.

"I don't know where to start. First murder happened while I was in the UK. I am severely behind and I have no way of knowing the full details because the newspapers are not allowed to give anything away."

"You could hack the police database and find out."

"I could but I'm tired."

"Please."

Irene laughed. "Would it make you happy?"

"Very, very happy."

"I'll think about it."

"You're already downloading the information aren't you?"

"Yes." smiled Irene, before standing up and walking to her computer. "Shall I print it off or can you cope with it getting emailed to your iPhone?"

"Paper for now please. I like hardcopies. Do you mind if I layout the evidence around the mantelpiece?"

"Go ahead." replied Irene before pressing the print button. Irene walked into the hallway and came back with the box of letters she had dumped in it. She pulled up two trays from under the coffee table. One was marked 'keep' which would be the ones she'd be keeping. Sherlock assumed that the other was for ones she wasn't or ones that needed replied to.

She began reading the letters without showing any expression on her face. While Sherlock was reading the case file that had been printed out, he couldn't help but steal glances at her; each glance giving him the tight feeling in his chest that was very foreign to him.

Suddenly Irene swallowed as she looked at the envelope of another letter. "How are we doing, Sherlock? Anything?" she asked.

Her voice was breaking here and there suggesting that something about the letter had been upsetting.

"First victim was Amanda Collins. She was found dead when you were in the UK. Two weeks ago. There is nothing to suggest what had killed her but on the left shoulder blade was a Japanese symbol, carved in by a knife. It reads as ten in translation. Woman are you alright?"

"Me? Yes I'm fine thank you Sherlock."

"The second victim Alexis Bamford was found in an alleyway, Japanese symbol was carved into her shoulder blade this time it translates as nine."

"The second victim had a nine."

"There's more. The third victim, Peter Marks had also had a symbol. Translates as the number eight."

"They're counting down."

"To what?" questioned Sherlock.

"The last victim, perhaps?" Irene suggested.

"They are connected but what connects them? They are of different social classes. Look at Peter Marks for instance, an architect who has made a great deal of money from his profession, turns up dead. Before him we have Alexis Bamford, daughter of a man who makes his money as a night guard in a museum. I hardly think the pay is good. Alexis was the youngest. She was only fifteen. She was a girl at school. Why would she anger a serial killer? Then there was Amanda Collins, who had a job as a journalist…"

Sherlock couldn't finish as Irene's mobile rang. She picked it up. "Hello, how are you?" she answered. She mouthed 'sorry' to Sherlock and he nodded. With any other person he'd have rolled his eyes but he suddenly felt himself become lenient and considerate towards her. Was it because he'd changed or was it just because she was a tad bit different from everybody else?

"Yes, I got it…I was about to read it…"

Sherlock's eyes widened as he realised Irene was talking to someone on the other end of the call about the letter.

"It was very kind…Of course I will come…Thank you…No it's fine. I'll be OK…Yes the books are doing well and so is my new one…Did you get a copy?...It'll be something to read now and then. You must be bored."

Sherlock was falling under the suspicion that the person on the other end of the call was of significance to Irene and he suddenly felt different. Worried? Jealous? He couldn't explain it himself, but all he knew was that subconsciously he didn't want that to be the case.

"Do you mind if I bring Anthony with me?...He's my PA and he's been very good in supporting me…No…I mean it no…I'm not…I do not!...You used to do this all the time…No…I'm telling you…I'll see you later…Bye."

"Who was that?" Sherlock asked when she got off the phone.

"That was Gray. He was a good friend of my father's. When my father died, he was there for me. He became my guardian. Him and his wife Melinda, they very lovely people."

"So he's married then?"

"Yes. Why?"

"No reason. Just wondering…" he replied, trailing himself off at the end.

"Switch on the news dear, will you?"

"Are we going somewhere? You asked him if you could take me with you somewhere."

"The anniversary of my father's death is December 12th and his unit were wondering if I would like to attend the dedication service. December 12th was also the day that he saved a lot of lives. He died a hero and that's all I know, because they won't tell me anything more."

It all became clear to Sherlock now why Irene respected John so much. "He was a solider."

"He was an army doctor. Just like John."

"It's why you respect John so much."

"Yes."

Sherlock put the case notes on Irene's desk. Irene looked over to him. "What you did for John, Sherlock…was so, so brave and kind. You jumped off a building for him, even though you knew you were going to survive you were so brave."

"It wasn't just for John. I did it for Mrs Hudson, Lestrade and I did it for…Wait a minute…Kelly was going to jump from a building because her father died and…you were upset when I…"

"I was just being extremely stupid."

"I am sorry!" he said sincerely.

"I was so young and stupid. My father died. I had no one else. So I climbed my school roof and I hid up there until night time. I didn't want to jump with people watching. Night time came. It was winter so it came quickly. I walked to the edge and I paced on the edge of the roof trying to get the courage to just end my misery, and it was icy."

Sherlock sat next to her and without thinking put his hand on hers. He'd seen people do it during cases to console the victims of families but he'd never thought he'd do it for someone, himself, especially not the woman who could have crippled the British government.

"You slipped."

Irene nodded. "I grabbed on. It was a reflex but I was allowing myself to slowly lose the grip I had, and before I fell I felt someone grabbed me. It was Gray. He'd been looking for me. He just knew I'd be there at the school from what my father had told him. Probably something like 'oh my Irene loves her school'. I used to sit on rooftops with my father in the most random of places and we'd just talk about mum and sports as well."

"Your mother died when you were young?"

"When I was five years old."

"The 12th of December?"

"Yeah."

"I'll mark my PDA."

"You'll be there?"

"Of course I will. I want to see if John is unique or not."

Irene smiled and Sherlock switched on the television and changed to the news like Irene had asked him earlier but nothing that would help them turned up. Irene sighed and stood up. "There can't have been a link found yet. So it's up to us to find it."

"How?" asked Sherlock.

"Good old fashioned Google. Chances are that if the names of the victims have not been disclosed by the police then if they come together on a page we've found the real link."

"Oh this is getting interesting." Sherlock uttered with great happiness.

Irene sat down at her desk and began to type. Before she knew it Sherlock was looking over her shoulder. She swallowed. He was too close for her liking, but not in a negative way. She felt as if she couldn't breathe, and her heart was going to go so fast that she was worried it would stop because of the pressure.

"That." Sherlock spoke pointing to the screen.

Irene opened up a news article. "I remember this. A month before your 'death' there was a bomb on a subway train. They never found out who planted it."

She read the article. "There were eleven survivors. Three of those survivors were Amanda Collins, Alexis Bamford and Peter Marks."

Sherlock drew Irene the 'I know what's going on look' that he used to give John all the time, which made the poor army doctor crazy but Sherlock had a feeling Irene did know what was going on.

"I could be wrong. It's just a theory."

"Go on."

"What if, the one who planted the bomb was one of those survivors?"

"Go on." Sherlock repeated with a smirk.

"They are frightened that one of them realised and so just in case, they are killing the people left who could have."

"One of the survivors was Japanese."

Irene began looking through photos of the survivors and CCTV screenshots. "In the news when it was on I remember that the Japanese man, Ishiguro Shinji had to have a translator. He did not understand a word of English."

"And?"

"But one woman in that group did know Japanese."

She pulled up a photo of a woman who shaking hands with Ishiguro. Then Irene showed a clip of her speaking quickly to Ishiguro and Ishiguro panicking."

"If he didn't understand English, then she must have been talking in Japanese. Why would a Japanese man, carve numbers in Japanese when an American woman called Sandra Smith who spoke Japanese and English could frame Ishiguro Shinji? But, why kill ten people when you can start counting downwards, and threaten the one who did know about the bomb? Wait… Why would they start killing now? OK. What if the person who does know is blackmailing Sandra Smith?"

"Oh I love you! We need more proof though."

"Well let's go and find it!"

"We could probably work out who he'll kill first. Let's see if there is pattern."

"Good idea, Sherly."

"Please do not call me that."

"Oh look at the little pleading boy." she replied before standing up. "Why don't you find the pattern?"

Sherlock sat down on Irene's chair and he sat staring at the screen for a moment. "Come on, dear. Impress me."

She kissed his cheek and within eight seconds he came out in a ramble. "Excluding Ishiguro Shinji, he's going by who was around him at the time. Take out Amanda, Alexis and Peter. It's her next."

Sherlock pointed to a woman on screen. "According to the photos that is Dervla Laurence."

"I think it's time you put in an anonymous tip to the police. The rest is all boring when they do what they do."

"What about the evidence?"

"If they catch Sandra Smith in the act we won't need a lot. Phone in the tip, now please."

Irene picked up the landline phone on her desk and withheld her number as she called. "Hello I'd like to make an anonymous tip to the police…It's about the on-going murder investigations in the paper…I can't tell you how I know but the next target of the man who is doing this is going to be a Dervla Laurence."

Irene ended the call and look to Sherlock who was smirking. "Did I impress you, Woman?"

"Maybe." she replied.

Sherlock's eyes widened and Irene walked upstairs. Since he'd nothing else to do he walked upstairs to his own room and began to read Irene's next chapter. 'Eager to impress'.

TBC


	7. Freaks

During the early hours of the morning Irene couldn't sleep. She didn't know if it was her insomnia or her jet lag that was causing it, but whatever the cause it was not helping her. She rolled on her side and stared at her alarm clock. It was one am. She'd barely slept at all. She sighed at the fact, and closed her eyes, but sleep didn't come to her even after half an hour.

She turned herself so she was staring at the ceiling and her thoughts turned to the detective living in her house as her PA. She thought that she'd gotten over her feelings for him long ago when she'd left Baker Street to go home, but part of her knew that she knew it wasn't the case from the moment she heard about his 'death'. She thought her own life had ended then, and that she would not recover.

She felt more euphoric for Sherlock than she'd done with Norton. She was beginning to realise that she never loved Norton at all. She was lonely and Norton was just a little exciting because of his job. Sherlock was different, he understood her and yet he didn't run away. He knew she was dangerous and he did the thing he didn't normally do and named her his friend. He also named her 'The Woman'. It was a salute she cherished, but it also gave her false hope that he may feel something for her, however little. If he was to return the feeling she had for him she wouldn't deny to herself her own, but she was adamant that he was not capable, and if he were to feel such feelings for a woman, it would not be her. She thought that he'd want someone to show off to on a regular basis and gain praise, and she knew that she couldn't provide him with that, because she was not always impressed, and what seemed not easy to the people who praised him was so easy to her. She didn't know that she was wrong about the first point. Sherlock wanted a challenge, he want to impress the unimpressible. He wanted to be on his toes all the time. He wanted to have to dance to his full power. He didn't want to wake up in the morning to someone 'normal'.

Irene sighed and finally she drifted into a sleep.

Sherlock lay awake in the room across, staring at the ceiling. He couldn't help but think of Moriarty's network and what they could be planning. He worried for John, and Mrs Hudson, and Lestrade; three out of four of Moriarty's possible victims.

He was surprised that the fourth victim had cropped up on the conversation in the roof. It was when he realised that he felt something different for her. In fact he always knew that he felt differently about her but now he was just starting to have to come to grips with accepting it. He was Sherlock Holmes – the high functioning sociopath. Love was a dangerous disadvantage, and unacceptable in his eyes but he did care. He cared about John, he cared about Lestrade, and he cared about Mrs Hudson. He was in love with Irene Adler.

At the thought of it he denied it. He didn't know what love was so he couldn't jump to conclusion. He respected her; that was a definite. He would even admit that she was friend, but he refused to admit that he loved her even to himself. He was not ready for sentiment. He was already burdened with his conflicting feelings about the moment on the roof, when he had real tears coming from his eyes. He was having to come to grips with the organ between his lungs. He had a heart, and he knew it now.

He swallowed as he recalled the moments of closeness they had shared that day. He'd held her hand as she recalled a troubling memory and he'd leaned in close to her as she typed into the computer. He'd taken in the scent of her perfume, and her shampoo.

Then there was the problem of his constant slip of the tongue where he'd say 'I love you'. Regardless of whether he did or didn't, he had been referring to her actions, her ideas and her deduction. He was not only in love with her, but the things she was capable of doing. She had almost destroyed his brother, and that was something Sherlock couldn't even come close to, despite their similar mind sets.

He let out a sigh to express his conflicting emotions and then rose from his bed. He was in his favourite dressing gown; the one that Irene had 'borrowed' when she'd been grazed by a bullet, during the fiasco with her, and his brother.

He opened his room door, and stepped outside and into the hallway. He quietly walked to Irene's door and carefully he opened it a little to see if she was sleeping. She was. But only just. She'd been tossing and turning. He could tell from the state of her covers.

He walked away from her room and downstairs where he stared at the view of Newark from the windows.

When looking at the view became too tedious for him he sat at Irene's computer and began to browse the internet. He checked John's blog for any sign of an update. There was none. There was nothing in the news about anything going on in London, either. Things were quiet in his home city. That was surely good. It saddened him a tiny bit to think of home, and Baker Street. He missed Mrs Hudson's cooking, and John's assistance in the cases. John was the medium between the normal world, and the genius world. John was neither stupid nor a genius, but the army doctor was clever and Sherlock respected him for it.

Suddenly the realisation that he was sitting at Irene's desk hit him and he opened one of her drawers to find a photo album. He was going to remove it and look through it, but then he stopped himself. His respect for her was too great.

He closed the drawer over and thought of what he could do next. His whole life's aspiration was to end his boredom by applying his skills to doing what he loved the most, which was solving the 'unsolvable'.

He sighed heavily, and made his way back upstairs, and then into his own room, before flopping himself on the bed and staring at the ceiling again.

In the morning Irene awoke to her alarm going off. She wanted nothing more than to hit the snooze button, but then she heard violin playing downstairs and she ended up just switching it off, and getting up.

She looked in her wardrobe as she tried to find clothes to wear. A day of wearing her night clothes was not an option with Sherlock in the house. She had to stay awake to keep him in check from annoying anyone, and her night clothes would only make her sleepier than she was.

Once she had decided on a pair of trousers, a light blue blouse, and a suit jacket to go with the trousers she walked into her bathroom and turned on the shower.

She hoped the cold water would wake her up but it only made her cold and desperate to get out. She dried herself and put on her clothes before making her way downstairs to find Sherlock still in his dressing gown and pyjamas.

"Morning."

"Hello."

"You look tired, perhaps you should sleep some more."

She looked at him for a moment, before turning away. "Perhaps."

"I read your chapter eager to impress. It was very good. I enjoyed it."

"I thought that you'd like that chapter. It's full of Kelly's deductions as she tries to impress her fellow marines. Sadly it doesn't work and they called her a freak."

"I know how she feels but then again I am one." he muttered. "Donovan was right all along, and look how I've ended up paying for it."

"You're not a freak!" Irene asserted.

Sherlock turned around to her. "I don't want to hear you say that about yourself again! Do you hear me Sherlock Holmes?"

He swallowed and turned away. There was a sudden change in the way he held himself, and it expressed sadness and perhaps even depression.

She walked over to him. "When I went to see John and Mary, they said that I was told by John that Lestrade is fighting to clear your name. John is helping too. Guess what? So is Mycroft Holmes. We both know that what Mycroft Holmes wants he puts a great deal of effort in getting in."

He suddenly felt her hand on his shoulder and it made him swallow to have her so close. "Why are you just telling me this now?"

"I was worried that your pride would become wounded."

"Why tell me now?"

"It's gone and I can see that now. It's time to stop feeling sorry for yourself and do something. Moriarty hasn't won! So stop acting like he has."

He turned around and kissed her forehead. "Thank you."

He walked upstairs to his room. "Where are you going?" Irene asked.

He stopped walking and leaned over the banister. "To get my chess set, of course."

Irene smiled and suddenly realised she'd held he breath for a while, especially while he leaned in to kiss her forehead.

When Sherlock stepped into his room he cursed himself for letting his guard down. It could have been more than a kiss to the forehead. It could have been more intimate, and had been a kiss to the lips. He was refusing to let his heart rule him. That was his new battle: Heart VS Brain. To love Irene Adler was what his heart wanted, but to keep himself calculating logically was what his brain wanted. To be in love with Irene Adler was going against his better judgement, but he knew that the more time he spent with her the more he'd feel likely to give in to sentiment. But it was more than that, he wanted to tell her his every thought coming for the part of his mind that was being controlled by his heart but doing that would make him vulnerable, and in many ways it frightened him.

He got showered and dressed into his favourite black suit. If Irene was dressed how she wanted to be, he would be too.

He walked downstairs a while later with his chessboard to find Irene playing the piano very quietly that he didn't hear it until he got downstairs. To do it as a quiet as she did while playing the tune, with the correct notes and rhythm took skill. It was another thing added to his mental list of Irene Adler's wonderful capabilities.

"You know what Sherlock; you're not the only one that's been called a freak." Irene said suddenly. "I used to get bullied in school."

"Guess we're both freaks then."

"Yes, but don't call yourself that, it makes me feel sorry for you."

She turned around winked to him before standing up and taking the chessboard off of him. "Let's take this to the dining table."

TBC

A/N Thanks for the reviews guys and the lovely responses. Have a nice day.


	8. The Joy Of Redemption

As Sherlock and Irene played chess they had the news turned on in case something about the case they'd investigated turned up. Sadly nothing had happened yet, and they were forced to occupy themselves with the chess game.

Sherlock actually had to think more carefully about his moves. Irene was cornering his King into a trap, and he severely needed to get out of it. He moved his King by castling and shot Irene a smirk.

Irene glanced at him and immediately ignored the smug look on his face, and examined the chessboard as she began to plan her next move. Sherlock could see how concentrated she was on the game. She was not letting her guard down for one moment, and in the last half hour of playing she'd been holding herself very well. She smiled and moved her Knight. "Mr Holmes I believe that is check."

He took Irene's Knight with his pawn. "Hmm. Silly isn't it? It's such a simple death for a more major piece. My pawn, just took that."

"Yes and in moving your pawn Mr Holmes, you've blocked your bishop from taking my queen."

"What do you mean? It was never in the line to take your queen."

Irene moved her queen. "It would have been now. Checkmate. Was the sacrifice of my Knight really so silly, after all?"

"It would seem not."

Irene stood up and walked over to the sofa. "Look who has just been arrested." she smiled, as she turned her head to look at Sherlock. The detective was staring at the chess set as though somehow a way out of checkmate would come to him but there was none.

Irene stood up and walked over to him. "The game is finished. Don't worry, you can **try **and beat me next time." she teased.

She began re-arranging the pieces so that they were in their original places. She dropped one and she and Sherlock went to grab it at the same time. Sherlock swallowed as his hand brushed against hers. They looked up to each other for a brief moment, and their eyes locked.

Then she looked away, and put the piece in its place. She walked over to the kitchen and poured herself a glass of water. "Would you like any breakfast or something to drink?"

He swallowed as he snapped himself back into reality. "Just tea for me thanks."

She made his tea and took it over to him. "Thank you."

The doorbell rang and Irene went to answer it. "Hello."

"Hi, I moved into the apartment downstairs. I was just wondering I if you wanted to come to my party tonight?"

"Right, what's your name?"

"Chad."

"Right. How long does it last until?"

"One thirty."

"So you'll be playing loud music until then?"

"Well…I can turn it down."

"You're damn right." Irene replied before closing the door.

"Why could you not deal with Jenna, like that?"

"Because Jenna was my publisher; he wasn't."

"Yes, Jenna **was **your publisher."

"I am glad she's not anymore."

"People like her will come back begging for you to change your mind. She needs you more than you need her. I scheduled you an appointment while you were in the shower. It's with one of my preferred publishers."

"Preferred?" Irene questioned.

"Yes. I mean the ones who publish good quality books that I read."

"Alright then, but I'm not ready to write another book."

"Doesn't matter, I am sure they'll value an author of your capability."

"When is this appointment?"

"Tomorrow, and it's in this city."

"What time?"

"Four o'clock."

"Well that's good. It gives me time. Why are you just telling me this now?"

"There was more interesting things to talk about and do; chess for instance."

"Right." Irene nodded.

* * *

September 9th (Scotland Yard, London, UK) 11am

Lestrade put a file out in front of John, who was sitting across the other side of the inspector's desk.

"Hypnosis, it's been proved. The children were hypnotised. They robotically answer our questions in the exact same manner, with the exact same answer. We had a hypnotist look into it. They did hypnosis with the kids…some sort of detox thing and they were able to get them out of it." Lestrade explained to John. "Donovan isn't happy but Sherlock's been proved innocent one way."

"Yeah, but what about him being a fake?"

"I have done my best so far. Donovan isn't happy with me but she'll cope."

"Can't you fire her?"

Lestrade didn't say anything. "I'll see you later John. Have a nice date with Mary."

John nodded and stood up.

* * *

Because of the time difference it was only 6 am in Newark. Irene however was not sleeping. She sat on the sofa downstairs, with a cup of coffee glued in her hand, as she watched the morning news. Sherlock quietly stepped downstairs and sat on the sofa across from hers. He was reading Irene's book. "The Joy of Redemption?" he questioned suddenly.

Irene didn't reply to him. "I will let you work out why that chapter is called that."

"Hmm. How about this one. Everyone thought Kelly messed up when really she didn't and she was being framed..."

"Sherlock for once could you not speak. Insult me tomorrow but today I need quiet."

"Why?"

"Do you know what day it is Sherlock?"

"The ninth of September."

"It is never a good day."

"Why not?" he asked.

"If I tell you will you promise not to mock me."

"I promise."

"It's my father's birthday, or was."

"I'm sorry." Sherlock replied.

She stood up, walked over to him and kissed his cheek. "It's not your fault but thank you."

She then walked over to the piano and sat down. Sherlock stood up and walked upstairs feeling that she needed time alone. He had no idea how to comfort her.

She began to play. "Hush little baby don't say a word. Daddy's gonna buy you a mocking bird.

_Irene was sitting at her piano, at home when she was eight laughing as she played the same tune, except her father was joining in on singing with her. _

"_Hush, little baby, don't say a word, daddy's gonna buy you a mockingbird. And if that mockingbird don't sing, daddy's gonna buy you a diamond ring. And if that diamond ring turns brass, daddy's gonna buy you a looking glass. And if that looking glass gets broke, daddy's gonna buy you a billy goat. And if that billy goat doesn't pull, daddy's gonna buy you a cart and bull. And if that cart and bull turn over, daddy's gonna buy you a dog named Rover. And if that dog named Rover won't bark, daddy's gonna buy you a horse and cart. And if that horse and cart fall down, Well you'll still be the sweetest baby in town."_

"_Did you practice that just for me?" her father asked her. _

"_Yes I did daddy." she replied. "I missed you but Aunt Melinda looked after me while you and Uncle Gray were away." _

"_Were you a good girl for Aunt Melinda?"_

"_Of course I was." _

_He lifted her up and put her on his shoulders. "You're a clever girl."_

"_Happy Birthday daddy." _

"_Thank you sweetie."_

By the time Irene had finished playing, she had tears running down her cheek. She went to stand up but someone hand her a handkerchief. She looked up to see Sherlock. "This is yours."

"You may keep it. I have more."

She used it to wipe her eyes. "You're sweet you know that." she said before standing up and kiss his cheek. "Very, very sweet."

"Irene." Sherlock spoke, before the woman could walk upstairs. She stopped in her tracks and looked around. "I feel so sorry for you when you cry."

Irene smiled.

TBC

* * *

A/N Sherlock can be sweet when he wants to be right? ;)


	9. Conflict

September 15th 10am

Irene sat on her piano stool, staring out the window. The first thought that had come to her when she had woken up that very morning at six o'clock was that it was a year ago that day she met Sherlock Holmes. So quickly the year had past, and now Sherlock Holmes was a dead man living in her house as he tried to hide from Moriarty's network, and his friends.

"Morning." Sherlock said grumpily as he stepped downstairs. He was swaying his arms as he did, and Irene thought it made him even more childish than he was usually. He made his way into the kitchen area and began to boil the kettle.

"Nice day today isn't it?"

Sherlock stared out of the windows. It was raining. "No."

"I am just making sure that you were still in the world of the living. You haven't come out of that room of yours for six days."

Sherlock turned around and began to make his tea. He stole a glance at Irene for a couple of seconds. She was staring at the floor with a thoughtful expression. Then he realised she was dressed smartly, in a trouser suit, with a suit jacket. It was something he'd found she rarely did unless going out. When staying inside she'd wear normal trousers or jeans, with a simple blouse or t-shirt.

"Would you like some tea or coffee before you leave?" he asked her.

"No thank you I'll be getting something to eat later and I'll probably drink then."

"Oh. As your PA I didn't know you were leaving for a meeting."

"Oh no you wouldn't the meeting I have today is strictly social and personal." she replied before standing up. She walked over to Sherlock and kissed his cheek. "Don't open the door while I a gone. Keep quiet. Do not answer the phone, and when I come back I want the place in one piece. When I am gone, lock the door. You got all that or shall I repeat it slowly?"

"I'm not a child."

"You pout like one."

"Wear a jacket. One could get ill in this weather."

"I will." replied Irene before walking into the hall and taking her coat off of the coat stand. She put it on and left. When Irene had left Sherlock sat down.

"_Why else would she dress so smartly if not for a business meeting? She said it was social, and personal. Probably going to see another Norton, I imagine. Well if she ends up in tears it's not my fault. Wouldn't even give me so much as a game of chess this morning." _

He folded his arms and sat on the sofa, not bothering to touch his tea that he'd left on the worktop. He had gone off the idea of eating or drinking. He felt annoyed and perhaps worried but he had no idea why. That was the problem he was having with feeling emotion. He felt them, but he didn't know why he felt them.

He walked upstairs and made his way into his room to get his violin. He began to play the tune he'd composed at Christmas when he believed Irene to be dead. In many ways his tune was her tune. It symbolised her. It was Irene's theme.

Then he put the violin down. _"Women are not my area." he thought over and over to himself. "For me to be interested would involve me putting my mind at a great risk and that is more important. That's all I have that keeps me alive. It's my mind. If it's no use then I am nothing. I'm ordinary."_

Sherlock thought back to the time he'd first saw Irene face to face. He had realised that her photos, despite being beautifully taken, did not give her beauty any credit or justice. To Holmes she conveyed everything that a woman should be. In fact she portrayed what any man or woman should be. She was bright, and could think. She could make quick decisions and was not afraid to get into a fight to protect herself.

"_If she can still be normal but intelligent why can't I? Oh. Caring isn't an advantage and it has let her down. But in the end it made me different from Jim Moriarty, and perhaps that was a good thing. It made me more like her. I'd rather be like her. While I like people like her, she likes people like Norton. Stop it I don't care. I don't even know how to love someone and if I did…Why am I getting into these arguments? Is this the sort of man I have become? Have I become doubtful? I used to be able to make straight decisions. Why can't life be easy anymore? I used to be able to see through everyone and everything in seconds. Until I met her! A year ago today, in fact."_

Holmes sat at the edge of his book and began to read Irene's twelfth chapter which was called 'In conflict." Sherlock was beginning to realise that there was a lot in Irene's book that he could relate to, and probably a lot Irene could relate to as well.

Irene was out all day and she did not get back until half past nine at night. She looked to the kitchen worktop and realised Sherlock had not drank his tea and she knew if he'd not drank his tea then he had not eaten anything. He had not eaten much in a fortnight, either that he had not eaten whatsoever. She was beginning to lose track. She had bags in her hand and she carried them upstairs and put them on the bed before taking one brown bag and walking into Sherlock's room. He was lying on it staring at the ceiling as he threw a ball in the air and caught it.

"The things you do to occupy yourself."

"Oh so you finally decided to come home then?"

"Someone is grumpy. What's wrong with you? Did you miss your mummy?"

"You're not my mother."

"I feel like her sometimes." she said before sitting on the edge of the bed. "Anyway I bought you a present."

"Why?"

"A year ago today I met you and I want to celebrate that. I could not find a more childish, annoying, sociopathic man ever to be my friend. But not only that you are a good man, Sherlock Holmes. I'll always admire you for everything that you've done in life for me and for your friends."

Sherlock opened up the bag and found a lollipop. "Is this a joke?"

"Yes. Look further in."

Sherlock pulled out a watch. "You're other one was broke."

He smiled.

"Ah look you can smile. See how hard it was? All you had to do was use your facial muscles."

Sherlock found a knife too. "Just in case I can't keep you safe. You'll always have something that will."

She stood up and began to make her way to leave. "Irene who were you with?" Sherlock asked. "A friend?"

"Yes. Melinda she told me to say hi."

"Melinda as in your father's friend's wife?"

"Yes. Her and I went out for the day. I even got a new dress for when we go to…well for the 12th of December and I got some crime DVDs. Should be interesting."

Sherlock was flicking through a newspaper, pretending to not be interested.

"Well good night dear."

She walked into her room and sat on the edge of her bed, letting out a deep and depressed sigh. _"It doesn't matter what I do he will never notice me." _

TBC


	10. Cloak and Dagger

Sherlock spent October and November confined to his room. Irene gave up trying to get him to eat or have a simple conversation with him. She didn't know whether he was doing it because he didn't want to talk to her or if it was because he was depressed; either way she was tired of putting in a wasted effort.

It was the first of December now and Irene had yet to get a whole night's sleep. She would get an hour here and there and then wake up and be unable to fall back into a sleep. She had never slept well since the awful business with Norton and she couldn't recover from it properly.

She was walking down to a local shop to get some groceries for her apartment when a black car pulled out of nowhere. "Miss Adler?" a black suited man spoke when he got out of the car.

Irene looked around for witnesses - no one was there.

She glanced at the man before sighing. "What do you want?" she asked

"Get into the car please."

"I am a writer I know as well as anyone that bad things happen when I get into the car regardless of the people you work for."

"Miss Adler you have no choice. Get into the car now!"

Irene got into the car and was driven to an empty multi-storey car park. Before she could look at her surroundings a bag was put over her head and was she spun around before being held in place.

Suddenly she heard a car coming - another one. She rolled her eyes a little and sighed within her temporary blindness.

She heard the click of the car's trunk door opening and then she was grabbed and placed inside it.

* * *

Sherlock made his way out of his room and downstairs to get something to drink. He realised the place was empty and that Irene must have gone out. With a sigh he made his way to the refrigerator door and opened it. By the lack of water, soda and food inside he could deduce she had went out for groceries. "No milk." he said aloud. "No tea. How boring."

He walked to what he now called his own sofa because Irene rarely sat on it and flopped into it to lie and stare at the ceiling. He was beginning to miss Irene. He had hidden away in his room in hope that it would stop his infatuation with THE woman. But it made him miss her, the scent of her perfume, her voice, and her smile but most of all he missed speaking to her. She was of similar mind to him and he often craved that.

* * *

Irene was taken out of the trunk and moved up a set of stairs and then put into a chair. She heard someone snap their fingers and then a door close.

"Do forgive the harshness of your travels Miss Adler, but I am afraid it must continue for quite a bit more."

"Why the plane?" she asked. Even with the bag over her head she could tell that his face was shocked.

She smiled and continued. "We're in the Airport and we've just taken off. Going by the quickness of travel and the subterfuge I would say private jet."

The man who spoke did not say anything in reply and it was around fifty minutes later before they landed. She was led down the plane steps and put into the trunk of another car. It was around half an hour until she was taken out of the trunk.

She was taken along into a building and by the sounds of the feet on the flooring she could tell it was a corridor. They turned suddenly and she noted the angle of the turning. Eventually she was placed inside a room and she heard a door closed. Suddenly the bag was taken off of her head.

"Miss Adler we can't tell you where you are but you…" began the man in front of her - the same man from the plane.

She smiled and stated simply "We're in the Pentagon."

The face of the man in front of her could have turned milk sour. "Come now Tyrone you mustn't be too shocked. I did warn you about her." a voice said as they stepped into the room.

The voice was familiar and she turned to see Mycroft Holmes.

"I can see why my brother was fond of you." Mycroft said, with a funny look.

"Sherlock Holmes had a fondness for one person only."

"Yes he was fond of Dr Watson."

"I was referring to him. He loves himself."

"True."

"Miss Adler, do you care to tell us how you knew you were the Pentagon? It is somewhat of a mystery to us." Tyrone spoke.

"Travel time. You really should have stopped playing with your speaking watch. On the plane you sounded it for the time and by the time we landed and the time it gave to you which I believe was ten past nine around fifty minutes had past, approximately the time taken to get to DC airport. Then half an hour past. Traffic was busy. Very busy. But that's roughly the time it takes to get to Pentagon on a busy day. Usually it takes only quarter of an hour. When I was being taken along we made a turn in a corridor. There was nowhere else to go left or right at that moment but the angle of the turning…very pentagon side like. We're at the north of the pentagon building I believe. The real mystery mister is why you even bothered to put a bag over my head at all."

A slight smile appeared on Mycroft's face. "I'm surprised you're not married to my brother by now and carrying his child." he joked.

"If I was married to Sherlock I'd already have a child."

"I agree he can be childish." replied Mycroft. "I of all people should know."

"Could be." corrected Irene. "He's been dead for months."

"Same length of time Anthony Bryant has been alive for." Mycroft commented.

"Who is Anthony Bryant?" Tyrone asked as Irene's face fell in shock.

"Miss Adler's PA. It's a private joke and one you'll stay out of"

"One you'll stay out of too!" Irene ordered through gritted teeth.

"Oh will I?" Mycroft asked.

"Why am I here?" Irene snapped suddenly.

"You are here Miss Adler because we want you to be." spoke Tyrone.

"I am not a dog. What do you want?"

"We need your help." spoke Mycroft.

"Oh please, don't tell me you need my help. Why?"

"I am afraid as much as it gives me distaste to admit it, my brother was far better at cyphers and puzzles than I was. Sure, I can see through people and cases but when it comes to numbers and letters then I am perhaps not as educated."

"You're not educated in anything that involves getting off your ass." Irene replied. "Legwork is not your thing I imagine Mr Holmes."

Tyrone gritted his teeth as he spoke up. "Mr Holmes is not the only one representing a nation in trouble."

"Do you mean trouble as in scolding trouble, or trouble as in danger trouble?"

"The latter but we could get a scolding if we don't fix our problem." Tyrone replied.

"Oh dear and how can I help Mycroft Holmes?"

"You're the closest thing I have to my brother."

She drew him a look because she and Mycroft knew Sherlock was alive. "I am sure your mind is capable. You write stories for a living, in which the plot revolves around secret codes, and messages. All that must have required studying."

"Not entirely."

"We read your new book Miss Adler. I personally liked the chapter cloak and dagger." spoke Tyrone.

"Does Anthony like the book?"

"Leave him out of it Mycroft Holmes or I swear I will use words and you know my words are powerful."

"Yes I do." replied Mycroft.

"Miss Adler we need your help. We managed to intercept a code from terrorists but we can't decode it."

Irene tilted her head. "Who are the terrorists?"

Tyrone sighed. "We would like to keep that confidential."

"Show me the code." Irene commanded.

"We don't know what it means." explained Mycroft.

"Clearly."

"We thought it could be binary but that would imply 1s and 0s. There is a 2 and a four."

"So you didn't even translate it as if it was binary?" Irene asked.

"No point." Tyrone said.

"It's binary. Numbers there are meant to throw you off. Translates as Virginia Ceremony 2400 hours. Explosive opening."

"The midnight march." uttered Tyrone. "Thank you."

"What are you going to do about it?" Irene asked.

"Mr Holmes if you are leaving could you take Miss Adler with you? Thank you for recommending her."

Irene began to follow Mycroft who led her to another room.

"How?" she asked him.

"I had you watched and don't worry it is secure. Do you want to explain the situation?"

Irene explained to Mycroft about the last few months and then shrugged.

"The passports how do you think they passed so quickly?"

"I imagine you had something to do with it."

He smiled. "We have been keeping an eye on Godfrey Norton as much as possible, and we've gathered that he will be coming to Newark December 18th. I suggest that you leave the country then."

Irene swallowed.

He handed Irene a card. "If you ever feel that you can't protect Sherlock phone my personal mobile and let me know. I will also get protection on Lestrade, Mrs Hudson and Dr Watson. If you have concerns call me, or text me."

"You care about Sherlock don't you? Even though you made the mistake which cost him everything."

"I am doing everything to fix that mistake and yes I do care about him."

She went to walk away but Mycroft stopped her by speaking once more. "How far are you going to risk your life for him? How far are you willing to go to keep him safe?"

"I will die for him."

"You '**love**' him." Mycroft deduced with an amused smile.

"That's none of your business."

"A bit of friendly advice Miss Adler...Find someone else quickly and don't get too attached."

Irene opened the door and left. It took her two hours to get back home and when she did Sherlock's welcome was not welcoming."

"You've been out for ages and you forgot the groceries."

"Sorry dear. I'll go and get them. Book us a flight to Paris dear. Preferably one that leaves on the 14th and a hotel in Paris too would be good."

"You alright?"

"Yes." she replied. "Fine."

She exited the apartment to get the groceries she was meant to get before the cloak and dagger actions of the people from the pentagon.

TBC

A/N Last update as tomorrow I am going on holiday. Big thanks to the awesome Jane Eyre0 and my sister across the pond, who is awesome too! :) SanctuaryLover.

Also thanks to Wholock'sWarlock. :) So big thanks to everyone basically. Hopefully I'll get a chapter written while I'm away but unfortunatley I can't upload things from my iphone to ffnet which sucks. I hope they bring an app for it.

Anyway Happy Holiday Guys. :) Luv ya all!


	11. Unlocking The Locked Up Heart

For the rest of the day Sherlock drew Irene questioning looks as he tried to deduce where Irene had been when she was meant to be getting the shopping. He knew it was the reason she went out but she had not come back with groceries, so he could tell something or someone stopped her. She was too clever for forgetfulness.

He began to worry that she had ran into Norton and that was why she had suggested they leave on the fourteenth. At that thought he looked over to her and he suddenly noticed her smile as she sat in her chair staring at him with an airy expression on her face.

Sherlock blinked. "What?" he asked her suddenly.

"Nothing, it does not matter to you."

"Oh no please, don't let my stubborn and childlike manner put you off of speaking to me." he replied sarcastically.

"I am smiling because you are wondering where I was."

"Where were you?" he asked.

"The Pentagon."

"In Washington?"

"Yes but that is all you need to know."

She moved to the piano at the window and began to play. Sherlock made his way to the staircase and began to climb them. He was not in a good mood. He missed his cases. No new ones had turned up in Newark - at least none that were made public - and he secretly missed Mrs Hudson and John.

Irene sighed knowing she was going to have to deal with Sherlock for a long time.

_"Why do I put up with him? Oh yes because sadly he has made me fall in love with him."_

Sherlock lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling. _"Why do I stay here? Why did I go to her? Because she is clever not for any other reason."__  
_  
He closed his eyes and began to think. He was changing quickly. Especially in the way he saw people. In many ways he was just beginning to grow up and it was hurting his mind. He was longing for someone to take over and make things right. He had always been the one who made the decisions but now he was tired. It was that moment he realised he was very lonely. Sherlock Holmes needed someone.

* * *

12th December

Sherlock paced the floor downstairs while he waited on Irene, who was getting ready, and she was not going fast enough for Sherlock who was desperate to escape his confinements. He'd not been in the company of real people to test his deduction ability and he was eager to put it to the test that night - however experience had taught him that it would be best if he did not publically share it.

He heard footsteps suddenly as Irene made her way downstairs. He looked up and saw her in her dress. She had her hair done up with some of it escaping in pretty little waves. Her dress was teal blue with one strap going across her neck diagonally. Any other man would have stood there with their mouth agape at that point but Sherlock was not any other man and he stood normally and told her to hurry up. However Sherlock never stood with his mouth agape as Irene looked the same as she normally did - having a face that a man might die for.

"I am ready, let's go." Irene spoke.

When they got to the hall where the remembrance memorial was being held Irene sat at her table next to Sherlock.

"Irene, it's so good to see you." she heard someone speak. She looked up and a smile appeared on her face.

She stood up and walked over to the speaker. "Jeremy I didn't know you were going to be here tonight."

He hugged her. "I didn't either but things turned in my favour. Mum and dad are pleased. How are you?"

"Yes I am fine." she replied. "Where are your mum and dad?"

"Mingling." he replied, before looking at the table and Sherlock. "I think we're all at this table. Who is your friend?"

"This is Anthony. Anthony this is Jeremy." introduced Irene. Sherlock stood up and offered Jeremy his hand to shake which surprised Irene to the point of widening her eyes and looking at him questioningly.

"Hello." smiled Jeremy as he shook Sherlock's hand.

"Hey." Sherlock smiled.

"Oh look who is coming." sneered Jeremy.

"Well well well. If it isn't Irene Adler." they heard someone speak.

Irene turned around. "Jane. Hello."

"I am surprised you were able to choose a dress after all there is not much that compliments you."

"I thought after all these years you'd have grown up."

"How is Norton?" she asked.

"He decided I wasn't royal enough." Irene replied. "Excuse me."

Irene walked away and Jane scoffed. "Hi Jeremy..." she began until her eyes rested on Sherlock. "I don't think I have met you before. I'd know."

Sherlock turned away and sat down before Jane could talk anymore. Jeremy followed and sat next to Sherlock. "You were brave. But once Jane gets her eyes set on you there is no escaping her."

"Pardon?"

"Remaining oblivious is a good thing sometimes. Jane has always had it in for Irene."

"Why?" Sherlock asked.

"Norton preferred Irene to Jane. Typical. Irene did not even know. I am surprised they broke up. "

Sherlock nodded and pretended to be interested.

"There, she is coming back."

Irene came back to the table with a frown on her face.

"Cheer up Irene it's only a memorial not a funeral."

"Quiet Jeremy!" snapped Irene. She looked to Sherlock who sighed and began to look around.

She moved to sit next to him and he was secretly glad. "Be on your best behaviour."

"I will! I promise I won't speak."

"Don't not speak it is antisocial."

"When I speak though things come out and I don't mean then too."

Jeremy was watching Irene and Sherlock whisper to one another with a cheeky grin.

"I don't know if you have ever tried it before Sherlock but think before you speak. If what you are about to say will cause pain don't. It is quite simple."

Irene caught sight of Jeremy smiling. "I will slap you." she hissed to him.

"Guess who Jane has her eye on now." he smiled nodding in Sherlock's direction.

Irene leaned into Sherlock and whispered again. "You can say whatever you want to Jane. She's an exception and I am pretty sure she has her eyes on you."

"Meaning?"

"I am too tired not to be blunt. She wants you for your money and probably your ability in the bedroom."

"What ability in the bedroom?" Sherlock asked.

"Good point." Irene uttered animatedly.

"What ability in the bedroom? I don't get it."

"Oh my God you really don't get it do you? Never mind it is not important."

"Here comes mum and dad." spoke Jeremy, before Sherlock could speak again.

Irene looked to see Gray and Melinda coming. "I knew that dress would look good on you when I saw it." smiled Melinda before turning to her husband and her son. "Doesn't she look very nice in it?"

"Of course." smiled Gray before sitting next to Jeremy.

"Yeah." smiled Jeremy.

"Do you think so?" Gray asked Sherlock. He was doing it to tease Irene.

Irene's eyes widened in horror as she dreaded Sherlock's answer.

"I think she always looks like that." he said politely and Irene smiled.

"How long has Jeremy been in town?" Irene asked, changing the conversation quickly.

"Literally six hours." Jeremy replied.

"It must be a busy life being an actor." Sherlock stated.

"Yes did Irene tell you?"

"No." he replied. "We rarely speak."

"I mentioned Gray and Melinda though." 'defended Irene.

"I am surprised you mentioned any of us. You were always reserved." Jeremy commented.

"Except with people I trust."

"Oh so you trust Anthony?"

"Yes I do!"

"Jeremy drop it." ordered Gray. "Have you started another book yet?"

"No not yet." replied Irene.

"I found your book fine until it got to all the complex stuff." Jeremy spoke.

"Personally I found the analysis the best bit." Sherlock remarked. He was somewhat perturbed at something criticizing Irene's book, but he didn't understand why. He was more than used to people not caring about the 'stuff that mattered'.

"What was the chapter called when Kelly and Nathan finally kiss?" asked Jeremy. "That was my favourite. Was funny."

"It was Chapter thirteen. Unlocking The Locked Up Heart." Irene replied. She knew every chapter of her book off by heart. It was her life.

"I thought the book was wonderful." stated Melinda.

Irene made conversation with her friends for a while and all throughout the dinner. Then it was time for the speeches and she listened to them as they were made by the family members of other heroes. She couldn't help but feel her heart sink as the thoughts of the first memorial when she was a teenager came to mind.

"Are you alright?" a male voice asked. She looked up thinking it was Gray instead it was Sherlock. She didn't recognise him with his American accent.

"The truth? No."

The host began to speak again. "Our final hero is one that couldn't be here today. He was actually killed in...well I am not allowed to say. I would not be alive today if it wasn't for that man. He sewed me up and sent me home to my wife. Nicolai was a good man and from what my fellow soldier Gray has told me and what Nicolai had told me so is his daughter and she's here today to say something."

Irene walked up to the platform to speak. "I was asked to say something about my father and I will. But he'd be disappointed in me if I did not mention the other 500 heroes that died. 500 soldiers were killed the day that my father died. They were his friends. But if it wasn't for the quick thinking of the 19400 other soldiers there, things would have been a lot worse and the hospital base that my father worked in would completely be destroyed. I was proud of my father but he was proud of his allies be it a regular soldier or an army doctor. He would not call himself a hero if he were alive today. I myself thought that only soldiers could be heroes but I have met another one, other than him and other than Gray and he died saving his friends. His name was Sherlock Holmes and he is so very much like my father. Both of them are social deviants. I miss my father so much and I stopped believing in everything and everyone. That I am ashamed of. Heroes still exist and the point I was trying to make was that sometimes the good guys do win and that's what my father wanted everyone to know. Every soldier, every doctor, is a hero! Some are just noticed more than others. But we are all capable of good inside of us. I've seen in the most unlikely of people. I loved my father very much and what I loved most about him was how good of a friend he was to his people, and how much he supported them, and how modest he was for always putting himself to nothing to the people around him. That's all I can say."

Irene left to go to the table with tears in her eyes, and she never spoke much until it was time for the dancing. Then she just sat quietly with Sherlock.

Sherlock could see that Irene was upset. He wasn't good with dealing with people's emotions. He wasn't good at dealing with his own. But he didn't want to have her sitting without anyone to help her. He put his hand on hers, and brought his lips to her cheek. She turned around and looked at him. They were suddenly very close but for Sherlock it wasn't close enough. She moved her other hand to his other hand and looked at him with eyes that showed pain and longing. He moved in even closer and she did too. His head wasn't controlling him, it was his heart.

"I didn't die." he whispered.

"I know." she replied.

Their lips were getting closer and closer and then her phone began to ring. It was the James Bond theme. A personalised tone she assigned to Mycroft.

"I have to take this."

She answered it and walked outside. "Yes?"

"Do you remember the incident at the pentagon?"

"Yes."

"It's going to happen in the hotel you are at. We are running out of time. Would you care to get everyone out?"

"How long do I have?"

"Less than 3 minutes."

She ended the call and ran in before triggering the fire alarms and sparklers.

"Irene come on we need to get out." called Gray.

"Gray I need you to do something. Get Anthony out of here and take him home. Now!"

"What's wrong."

"There is a bomb in here."

"Woman." Sherlock spoke running up to Irene.

"Gray get him out."

"Do you honestly think I am going to leave you here with a bomb."

"Listen not everyone is going to get out on time. I need to do something."

Sherlock grabbed Irene's hand. "I suggest you leave Gray and look after the rest of your family. I will be staying here."

Irene looked at Sherlock. There was a firmness in his voice that told her Sherlock's mind was made up and there was no changing it.

"You get her out." ordered Gray.

"Oh I will."

* * *

Gray waited outside the hotel with Jeremy and Melinda who were constantly asking questions to which he did not know the answer to.

Ten minutes passed and still nothing had happened and then Gray made his way inside to find Irene on the memorial dinner room laughing on the floor with the man he knew as Anthony. At their side was a bomb. He rarely saw her laughing, sine her father's death and he was somewhat pleased to see her happy despite how worried he was.

She suddenly realised Gray's presence. "Target neutralised."

"If it was an acid it would be ph 6 point 999999999" stated Sherlock.

"In other words it was easy." Irene continued to laugh.

"I am glad you are ok. Come now I'll take you and you friend home." Gray spoke concerned but relieved.

Sherlock stood up and then helped up Irene.

Irene's text alert went off and she looked at her phone. **"I need you to find out who organised the remembrance dinner. And no I won't stop helping Sherlock and his friends if you don't."**

"Gray who organised the remembrance dinner?" Irene asked.

"It was a Gareth Barrowman. He wasn't here tonight."

Irene texted the information to Mycroft and Sherlock looked at Irene with question.

Gray grabbed Irene's shoulder. "What is going on? You just knew about it. How?"

"I have frie_ well acquaintances in high places."

That was the end of the questioning. Gray could see that Irene was stressed.

When Irene got back home she made her way to the staircase but Sherlock stopped her in her tracks by simply uttering her name.

"Yes?" she asked, her voice tired. The adrenaline of defusing the bomb was over.

"Who phoned you?" asked Sherlock.

"Not right now. I don't feel well." she replied before making her way upstairs.

"Whoever phoned you must be..." Sherlock began as he followed her.

She opened her room door and turned to face Sherlock. "The discussion is over. Good night."

She stepped inside her room and closed the door over.

* * *

She deliberately avoided Sherlock the next day, using the excuse that she was busy preparing for Paris during the course of the next day. She did however make the mistake of leaving her phone in her room, with her mind being as cluttered as it was. The thought that her friends could have been killed was constantly being played in her head along with the fact that Sherlock was the real hero that night. He found the bomb and he refused to leave her. Since seeing him in for the first time in 2011 and comparing him to Sherlock more than a year later he had changed. He was far more vulnerable and she could see it was affecting him.

When her phone started ringing - the James Bond theme - for the first time that day - she was downstairs playing the piano and didn't hear it but Sherlock went to see to it and he saw a familiar number. One he knew belonged to his brother's personal mobile.

He took it downstairs to Irene when it had rang out and he gave it to her without questioning anything. He simply told her a white lie. That he didn't get to it in time. She just nodded and took it from him.

She stood up and unlocked he phone, with her back to Sherlock as she made her way to the front door.

Something made Sherlock angry but he didn't know what or why. He could not even tell who he was angry with. Irene or Mycroft?

She came back inside a while later, and began to make her way upstairs. "I am going to go to sleep early for the flight. See you in the morning."

Sherlock didn't sleep that night as he worried about what was happening between Irene and Mycroft. He felt betrayed by the fact Irene was not telling him about it. He went to her because he thought he could trust her, yet she was talking with Mycroft behind his back.

When morning came he met Irene at the door and they got a cab to the airport.

They sat in silence as they waited on their flight with Sherlock looking at Irene the whole time.

Finally the silence was broken by a fan of Irene's. "Oh my god it's really you." he stated.

Irene turned her head to look at him. "Depends who you really believe me to be."

"Oh my goodness I should take notes for tumblr. You are talking to me." he babbled as he brought out a pen and a notepad.

"What's your name?" asked Irene.

"George."

"Yeah, listen George I haven't really got time at the moment because my flight is leaving soon. I am very sorry. If you want though my PA will be willing to give you the necessary contact details if you want to ask me questions."

Sherlock looked at Irene surprised - because she never ever ignored her fans. Sherlock would have normally said something sarcastic but instead he decided to be pleasant.

"I apologise on behalf of my employer. We are very busy and she is in deep regret. She often tries to accommodate everyone but she has been so very busy the last couple of days. I recommend you try emailing her or try sending her a letter. Details are on her website which as an obse_...as a dedicated fan you should be aware of."

"Thank you." smiled George before sitting down on the next row of seats.

"Are you drunk?" Irene asked.

"Not at all."

Their flight was called and they began to make their way to the plane and then its first class section.

They sat next to each other and it was the first time they had been in each other's proximity for a while. It made both of them feel uncomfortable.

Sherlock was having to deal with finding the right moment to bring up Mycroft but the opportunity did not present itself. Often he just simply came out with it but he could not this time.

* * *

When dinner came around Sherlock asked Irene if she was tired just so he could hear her voice. He had to admit to himself that he was worried about her despite the guilt his cold and calculating mind felt but his thawing heart was taking over.

"A little." she answered without making eye contact.

"Is there anything I can do?"

"Why are you being so nice today? It's just not you. If you are mocking me stop and if you are being serious then you Sherlock Holmes are the kindest man that I have ever met!"

"I **am**the kindest man you have ever met."

She laughed suddenly and then Sherlock laughed at her laughing.

Suddenly from the corner of her eye she saw something silver head towards her neck.

Sherlock had a better view and with the quick rush of adrenaline he got he grabbed it and stopped it. It was a knife.

Irene swallowed and Sherlock pulled it out of her attacker's hand.

"Now now George that was not very nice of you was it?" Sherlock spoke through gritted teeth. "Doesn't this remind you of the moment in Irene's latest book at the beginning when she is on the plane?"

"Yes." he gulped because Sherlock's grip was on his wrist and it was not at all pleasant.

"Who sent you?" he snapped.

"What?"

"Excuse me sir. Mam." spoke a man that appeared to be security. Irene looked at him. It was the man who took her to the pentagon. Or rather half way.

He grabbed George and handcuffed him.

"I will get him out of your way." he spoke.

Irene sighed. "In my book there was nothing like that. Especially not at the start."

"He's not a fan then. A fan would correct me because they would be dedicated enough to have read your every book. No he agreed with me. So natural assumption is that if it was not a staking situation then another one. Regular murdering? But his clothes are inexpensive which suggests he is either a Scrooge or he can't afford them yet he is in first class. Someone else must have paid for him. Possibly that someone else must have hired him. Promise of money perhaps? He is not a cold hearted killer. He was sweating the whole time. He is just a pawn in it all. He was wearing dog tags that said daddy. Quite newly made. It suggests he has a young son or a daughter or both. He's married. I noted the ring. He either needs money for his wife and kids..."

"Or someone was threatening them."

"Or both. Either or someone is out to kill you and that is my main priority."

"It was only a bread knife." Irene stated.

"Definitely not a trained killer." Sherlock laughed. "Are you alright?"

"Yes. I am fine."

"Bit lucky that airport security was on board. Rarely happens. Unless it wasn't airport security..." began Sherlock.

"American airlines are different." Irene said very quickly.

"Right."

"I do not know about you but I don't think I could handle dessert."

Sherlock snickered.

* * *

It was eight o'clock at night when they arrived in Paris. By that time Irene was exhausted - so much so that she left Sherlock to check in as she sat down.

"Number 302." Sherlock said, handing her a key.

"Right." she nodded before standing up. They quietly made their way to the elevator and then to the suite.

When Irene got inside her phone rang. The James Bond theme rang indicated Mycroft.

"You better answer Mycroft." Sherlock said, his tone of voice scathing.

Irene looked at him and then rolled her eyes. _"That man misses nothing_." she thought.

"He can call back later." Irene replied.

"He might need you to be his lapdog for something."

"I am not his lapdog!"

"Then what are you? What hold does Mycroft have over you?"

"Nothing. It is nothing."

"The other day you said you were at the pentagon. Was that his doing?"

"He recommended to someone in the pentagon of my skills. He...he knows that you are alive. It was him that rushed your passport through. He also has surveillance on Mrs Hudson, Lestrade and John and all he needs is one phone call from me and they'll be protected should Norton find out you are alive."

"And all of this is in return for you being his little errand runner?"

"No!"

"Then why is he helping?"

"Because he is your big brother and he cares about you! Don't you see? Look past that stupid sibling rivalry and you will see that and perhaps if you were not so bloody childish then you would get along better!"

"You told me to organise Paris when you came back from the Pentagon. Why? What happened?"

"I wanted to get you out because Norton was going to Newark. Mycroft has him under surveillance."

"So you are just going to spend months moving between cities and countries to stay away from Norton?"

"Yes."

"Why?" he asked walking closer to her.

"For you." she answered.

"Why?" he asked more softly.

"Because despite your stubbornness, and your childishness, you are the most remarkable man that I have ever met and I...I..." She raised her voice for the next part. "I LOVE YOU, YOU STUPID IDIOT ! I AM STILL SHERLOCKED. And I hate you so much because no matter how much I try and hate you I can't."

Sherlock swallowed and then kissed her cheek. He moved his head so his lips were only a small measurement apart.

"I know exactly what you mean." he swallowed. "The fourth person I jumped for…It was you."

None of them knew who closed the gap first but their lips met suddenly. Before they could break away the door opened and they heard someone cough.

TBC

A/N Sorry for the late update. I was on holiday (Boy was it boring , except for all the roller coasters) Thanks for all the reviews guys it was really appreciatd.)


	12. The First Broken Boundary

In the shock of someone else's presence in the hotel room, Irene and Sherlock stopped kissing and looked to see who coughed. Sherlock drew the man who was standing in front of him daggers, and Irene swallowed as she suffered a mild embarrassment. She had not expected anyone to come in, nor had she expected Sherlock to kiss her. She was sure it was him that kissed her and not the other way around. But it happened too quickly to tell.

Sherlock was angrier than Irene, but did not act embarrassed at all. He had a thousand emotions running through him. He was discombobulated by them all, and just when he thought someone was going to make everything okay, the man before him had to cough.

"Mycroft!"

Mycroft smiled nonchalantly. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything."

"If you're here to see your lapdog go away!" replied Sherlock.

Irene folded her arms and sat down. It was going to be a long night. She just had a gut feeling about it. "I see he found out about me knowing." Mycroft commented in Irene's direction.

"I see you've been concerned." spat Sherlock before Irene could say anything in reply. "Tell me how your concern gives you the right to follow me to Paris."

"I didn't follow you to Paris. I came here to see Miss Irene Adler."

Irene leaned forward in her chair. "At this time, why?"

"Are you tired?" asked Mycroft.

"Should I honour you with a reply to that, Mr Holmes?" she asked rhetorically.

"Should I answer that?" replied Mycroft.

"Can you find a suitable reason?" Irene replied.

"Do you often take pleasure in trying to pit yourself against the British Government."

"I was never against them, they were against me because they got everything wrong! As usual." she replied. "You just can't get the staff can you?"

"It wasn't me who hired Norton into the CIA. I don't handle their affairs."

"Yet you sought after me, without even so much as reading my novels. To which you'd have gotten the answer to everything."

"Interesting isn't it Sherlock?" remarked Mycroft.

"What are you on about?" Sherlock snapped.

"How she goes one moment from being weak and vulnerable to being very head strong."

"She has a name." Sherlock replied. "What gives you the right to say the Woman is vulnerable."

"She attracts stalkers, and lunatics. I would say she magnetises danger. Now she has a terrorist cell after her!"

"A terrorist cell? Why?" Sherlock asked. Irene was not getting a word in.

"Why, you ask?" Mycroft questioned. "Ask Miss Adler here."

"Oh and you think I know?" Irene asked with anger as she stood up and walked over to Mycroft in haste. She was face to face with him. "Is that the real British Government? We don't know the answer to so we'll blame it on the victim? So typical of you people and your politics. It's what killed my father."

"I never said you had anything to do with it. Your father has." Mycroft replied as Irene walked away.

She turned around as she took in the words Mycroft had uttered. "What about my father?"

"I don't know what you think you're playing at Mycroft but…" began Sherlock.

"December 12th was the day that your father died. He died a hero." Mycroft began. Irene knew the story and she didn't need him repeating it but she was not going to break in front of Mycroft Holmes.

"Yes. I am not learning anything new here."

"When did he part ways with you last to go back with his allies?"

"The ninth of October. 1995. It was the day before my birthday and he was sad because he was going to miss it."

"You're fifteenth birthday?" asked Mycroft.

"Yes." Irene replied, forcing her expression to be more business like that, emotion filled; however much she hated talking about her father.

"So on the ninth of October he left, missing your birthday the next day?"

"Yes. How come you're asking me this when you can look at it on a computer."

"I cannot get access to his file. Just like you. I need your help." Mycroft explained. "Your father was helping the CIA out, to try and take down a terrorist. Gareth Barrowman. Barrowman is deliberately leaving trails to you. The whole set up with the Pentagon was a rouge military seal trying to get you killed but they couldn't do that while I was there."

"Thank you." Irene spoke sarcastically.

"So they tried again at the memorial dinner but you defused the bomb."

Sherlock coughed.

"With his help." Irene informed Mycroft.

"So he had one final step. He kidnapped a random man off the street, thinking that a simple stalker would cover up all tracks. But no, Sherlock Holmes was on board to save your life."

"And luckily enough one of your men."

"He was on there to make sure Sherlock was alright. Luckily he was because he saved a lot of problems."

"It still doesn't explain one thing." the author pointed out.

"Why is he after her?" Sherlock asked.

"You took the words right out of my mouth." Irene spoke. "Almost as if you were kissing me."

"I was a minute ago." Sherlock replied.

Irene smiled as Sherlock stared at her questioningly. "If it wasn't so late we could have dinner." Irene suggested.

"Not too late to get a Chinese. Do they have them in Paris?" Sherlock asked.

Irene laughed. "You're drifting off from the topic at hand."

"The question of why this terrorist is after you. Elementary Woman. Your father must have given you information. Form of a story? Floppy Disk? Computer. Anything. Or they at least think that."

"Well…I cannot think of anything."

Mycroft coughed to make them aware that he was still there. "All I know is that we're looking for a microchip or rather the CIA is."

"Now, now Mr Holmes, are you spying on American Intelligence?"

"I have to it is not very capable."

"I beg to differ." spoke Sherlock. "I've seen the intelligence of some Americans and as much as they are stupid there is one here and there who excels."

"Thank you."

"What made you think it was directed at you?" Sherlock asked.

"The way you were looking at me. Filled with admiration. Or were you getting me mistaken for your mirror again."

"My mirror is not so compliment worthy but at least it doesn't bring in trained killers at least."

"What made you think I was spying on American Intelligence?" asked Mycroft.

"Come on Mr Holmes! You're not serious? Well you just said that the CIA was telling you nothing, and therefore to find information out you must have little spies. All a bit of friendly competition amongst sister and cousin agencies isn't it? I do hope after all this time and the amount of problems we've had Mr Holmes that you've not started to underestimate me and put me down with the simpletons."

"It's Mycroft, to him everyone is below." Sherlock stated.

Mycroft smiled. "Even you **little **brother."

"What exactly does this microchip look like?" asked Irene.

"We don't know yet."

"How does that help me at all? How does it help your brother? It puts him in danger."

"Everything puts him in danger. Don't worry we've had security on this hotel for a while since you had it booked when you left the pentagon. I suggest you get some sleep tonight and you and I will meet for breakfast in the morning. Perhaps you can bring Sherlock up a sandwich or something afterwards."

"Or perhaps your brother and I can have room service and you can get something off the tray." Irene replied.

"I need to talk to you alone."

"Why? Anything you can say you can surely say in front of me." Sherlock butted in. "Or are you going to be talking about me."

"Zip it Sherlock. Not everything in life revolves around you because we revolve around the sun not you."

"Was that the dig in about the solar system thing again?"

"Oh I forgot about that." Irene pondered. "Mycroft I'll phone you in the morning and arrange something. I'm too tired to be serious."

Mycroft just smiled wryly and left.

"Is it me or are you very dangerous to be around?" Sherlock asked.

"Yes, maybe I am. But it gets boring being safe all the time."

"Don't you get scared?"

"Sometimes." she replied. "You better lock that door. I don't want any more people just barging in. Goodnight dear."

Sherlock nodded and rolled his eyes before locking the door. Irene went in his room and then he went in his to lie on his bed and stare the wall, the ceiling and then the window. Suddenly the door opened and the he heard footsteps coming towards him. It was Irene. She sat at the bottom of the bed. "What are we Sherlock?"

He sat up and moved beside her to stare out the window with her. "Freaks?" he suggested.

"I mean…I told you I loved you and you…"

Sherlock put his hand on her cheek. "My mind is telling me a million things, but I don't care. I am listening…"

He swallowed. "I don't know how to say it." he admitted. Irene nodded and was about to stand up but he stopped her and kissed her cheek. "I…put it this way. I want you to be Adele Enri and me to be Sam Mock-Seller."

"But no one knows whether or not they really would become together."

"Then write another book." he replied.

"But the series has ended."

"That's not what I meant. You be Adele Enri, and I will be Mock-Seller and you and I can write it together. Us controlling it."

"Are you drunk? Or are you high?"

"Yes on you you're toxic and frightening because you're so great. With everyone in the world I am freak but with you I'm a human being and you refuse to accept me as otherwise. I am accepted."

"What does your cold calculating powers of deduction say to this thought?"

"Runaway but my heart is saying different. Its opinion is rarely acknowledged because it was never acknowledged."

"Why are you able to say most of this? It's not you…"

"There is no point me trying to hide my feelings now I practically said them to you in the living room before Mycroft burst in."

Before she could speak he leaned in and kissed her on the lips. When he broke away she looked at him. "I think you're drunk, Sherlock either that you've just gone loopy. But I don't care because I am so tired."

Sherlock lay back. "It's been a long few months."

She lay down next to him. "It has. Goodnight." She replied before kissing his cheek.

"Aren't you leaving?"

"I'll just stay here. I can't be bothered moving now."

"Suit yourself. You better not snore."

She shot him a look. She closed her eyes and turned around to go to sleep and then she felt Sherlock's arm around her. "Goodnight Woman."

"Goodnight Sherly."

TBC

A/N I hope he wasn't too OOC but he's changed a lot in the Reichenbach Fall.


	13. CrossingTheWrongBoundary

"What's so important that you can't talk to me in front of Sherlock?" Irene asked, as she drank her morning tea in the hotel restaurant.

"Sherlock can be quite egregious and it is best he does not interfere."

"You say that the CIA gave my father a microchip?"

"Yes. It is important that it is recovered."

"Why so many years down the line are you being bothered about it?"

Mycroft shot her a look. "You question everything don't you? Indeed, it has been many years, and I do not know the entire circumstances to why they had discarded the microchip in the first place but the CIA fear that a member of Moriarty's network – dare I say it? – Norton's network is after the chip and is paying a high amount of money for its recovery."

"Hmm, and you don't want Sherlock involved because you think that Barrowman will find out that Sherlock is Sherlock and that he'll tell Norton's man who'll tell Norton who'll kill John and Mrs Hudson and Lestrade."

"Putting it like that yes, but Barrowman is after you because he thinks that your father must have given it to you. He recovered it before he went to see you for the last time and disappeared."

"You think that he gave it to me then. I am sure I'd have noticed something unusual."

"He wouldn't give you something unusual that's the point. He knew how clever you were and how much of a good memory you've got so naturally if he had given you it he would have concealed it in something ordinary that you would not question."

"I don't remember much." Irene replied.

"Or are you forcing yourself to forget because it's the last days of moments that you spent with your father?"

"Tell me Mr Holmes, have you lost a parent?"

"Yes, my mother…"

"Would you want to remember her last days with you?"

"No because as saddening as it was for me the one who was the most upset was my little brother."

Irene swallowed. "He…"

"It was why he became a sociopath and he hated me because I went straight back to my boss afterwards. I had no choice of course we were trying to…"

"Sherlock got upset?"

"Enough of my brother you have a think about that microchip now." Mycroft spoke before standing up. "I also see you did not pay any attention to my warning. I'll see you later for another discussion; I have another matter in the city that I must deal with."

"What the stay away from my brother one?" Irene asked. "Please since when did I ever listen to you? After all with you I've always had the upper hand Mycroft Holmes."

"I'll never forget it." Mycroft replied. "We at the British Government have made your our new favourite person. Mostly because we're frightened of a lawsuit but also because you have the ability to take us down, with just that simple mind of yours."

"Believe it or not my mind is not simple. Have a nice morning."

Irene turned around and made her way to the elevator and to her suite. When she got inside she found Sherlock reading the newspaper. "Dear, that's in French." Irene stated.

"I can read French. "he replied using the language.

"Well you're awake now I see." she replied in French. "I can speak French as well. I told your Mr Holmes I can do many things."

"Yes you did." Sherlock replied in English.

Irene went back to speaking English as well. "I was with Mycroft."

"Oh, really and what did he say? I suppose this microchip could cause the end of the world or something – something dramatic. It's always the same with dear Mycroft Holmes."

"He didn't really say anything. He was just talking about the microchip, and getting a dig in but apart from that he didn't really say anything."

"Did you have breakfast?" Sherlock asked.

"Just tea I am afraid. Breakfast is too posh down there."

Sherlock laughed. "I wouldn't eat snails for breakfast either."

"Sherlock you don't eat anything for breakfast. It is why you're so thin! I don't know how the coat of yours has not drowned you. I was thinking that we could skip breakfast and have brunch."

"We tried that once…Mrs Hudson, John and I but it was lunch by the time we all stopped arguing."

He wore a sad expression for a while as he thought about Baker Street and then he smiled. "Or we could go to Disney Land!"

Irene drew him a look. "You're just mocking me now aren't you?"

"Yes." he replied.

"How did you know about Disney Land?"

"It's in an advert in this newspaper." Sherlock replied. "Oh look an advert for Madame Tussauds. They had one in London."

"Is that your way of saying that you'd like to go?"

"No, been already. Woman was shot dead there."

"I see. I hope it was interesting enough for you."

"Not really it was very easy to work out who did it. Just because Lestrade couldn't get anything on CCTV does not mean that I couldn't work it out."

Irene's phone began to ring and she answered it. From the ringtone Sherlock could tell it was not Mycroft this time around. She began to speak in French. "Hello, Beltane…How did you know I was here?... I see…Of course I would b be happy to…I do have a companion though…Yes he's very trust worthy…Anthony Bryant…He's my PA and my friend…Of course…I'll meet you there."

She ended the call. "Sherlock dear would you care to accompany me to a crime scene?" she asked him in French.

"Miss Adler I would be honoured." Sherlock replied.

"Then what are we waiting for?"

"Can we talk in English this is boring?"

"If you like." Irene replied in English.

* * *

A French police car took Irene and Sherlock to the crime scene that Irene was talking about. "So who were you on the phone to?"

"You'll see."

"I want to know now."

"We're a going to meet a Parisian detective Beltane Pelletier whom I have worked with before, when I was writing my fourth novel."

"I see. From the way you were talking he knew you were in Paris. How? Isn't that a little concerning to you? Could be a stalker."

"Hardly Sherlock, but I thank you for your concern. He knew I was here because his colleague in another department had to gain CCTV from the camera that faced the building across. They noticed my name on the guest list."

"I see and that colleague told him then?"

"Yes well done."

The car drove on for another half hour until they got there. "Nothing seems unusual." Irene said to Sherlock.

"But then again it never does."

"I mean it's a perfectly ordinary house."

"Irene." Beltane greeted her, in French before kissing her hand. "It is very good to see you again."

"Likewise, this is my friend and PA Anthony Bryant." Irene introduced him to Sherlock.

"It is a pleasure to meet you." Beltane said. Sherlock drew him a fake smile, which did not go well with the daggers he was drawing him.

Irene drew Sherlock a look. "Mr Bryant has worked with me at many crime scenes, and he is very very good at solving crime, and I must say he's far better than I am."

"That is hard to imagine." Beltane replied. "Please both of you come this way."

They followed Beltane into the house. "You called me friend." he whispered to Irene when Beltane was too busy talking to one of his underlings.

"You are my friend, Sherlock."

"Then why did we start a relationship."

"Oh look at you, a mixture of copper and tellurium. Listen Sherlock dear, whether or not that we are in a relationship or not, you are still my best friend."

"Why did he kiss your hand?"

"He's French that's why." Irene replied with a laugh. "Anyway, the more sweet he is on me the more access we have to this crime scene. They must be desperate though. I wonder how bad it is."

"Come this way please." Beltane called in French. They followed him to the basement, where they found the body of a young woman. Sherlock and Irene both looked at her in pity – even Sherlock. The woman had her hands nailed to the floor of the basement.

"The only trace he leaves is his victims." Beltane said.

"How many have there been so far?" Irene asked.

"Six women and five men have died. We believe that they are linked."

"Linked?" Sherlock asked.

"The female victims' spouses had their throats cut while their partners died in their basements."

"She didn't bleed out." Sherlock stated. "So she died of something else."

"The other victims were poisoned, but it was slow. Very slow indeed." Beltane explained.

"And you are searching for this woman's spouse?" Sherlock asked.

"How did you know?" Beltane asked.

"It was hardly a difficult leap. Six women and five males, means you're waiting on the sixth, which means his body has not turned up yet."

Sherlock leaned down to the body and looked around the room and then her. Irene kneeled beside him. "Come on impress me, dear!"

Sherlock stood up and turned around to face the detective. "She's been dead less than twelve hours, rigor has not set in. She was nailed to the floor two days ago. Four AM at the earliest. With serial killers it is always hard, and you've got to wait on them making mistakes."

"This one did make a mistake." Irene interjected, earning a stare from Sherlock.

"Sorry I couldn't let you have all of it. Her watch broke in the struggle, and a shard of it cut our serial killer." she explained before walking to a shard of glass and pointing to it.

"I think you could get something analysed out of that." Irene said to Beltane.

She turned to Sherlock who was staring at her with awe. "Continue." she urged him.

"Wait a moment, how can you tell it was four AM, and not four o'clock in the day?" Beltane asked.

"She was carried from upstairs and the killer must have grabbed her while she was sleeping. She's wearing her night clothes. No one wears that kind of clothing at four o'clock."

Irene drew Sherlock him a look that said 'you wear your dressing gown at that time'. "This killer sneaked in on their victim while they were upstairs. He would not want to be noticed, so naturally it was night time."

"Day light saving's time." Beltane reminded Sherlock, making the consulting detective sigh.

"Yes naturally in the winter it would be dark, but it doesn't normally stop people from walking about the streets. He or she needed privacy while people were sleeping."

"Evidence that we have suggests it was a male."

"Evidence?" Sherlock asked. "What evidence?"

* * *

"Can't you run the DNA through the system?" Irene asked the female pathologist working on the case.

"Believe me I have tried." she replied. "There has been no match. Things are not what they are like on the television I am afraid."

"Thank you." Irene replied. "May I try?"

"Yes, you may." she replied.

Irene expanded the DNA match search by using a different database. "Woman!" Sherlock spoke before coming into the lab. "I looked at the other evidence. It seems our serial killer is a surgeon. Look at the cuts on the bodies. The knife marks on the necks of the male victims were so very cleanly cut, leaving only a line. Almost like a surgical knife. Someone with experience."

"That limits the search a little." Irene replied, before walking over to the computer. "Well it looks like a scalpel mark, so surgeon?"

"It will limit the search you're doing."

"How did you know I was doing a search?"

"Well…" Sherlock replied, before Irene edited it.

"Listen, I am going to go and get some coffee. Would you like some?"

"Yeah, OK." Sherlock replied. "I'll keep an eye on this for you while I read the rest of the notes."

She kissed his cheek. "Goodbye dear."

On her way out of the lab she bumped into someone. "Sorry." she apologised to the man.

He nodded and when she walked away he smiled. Irene brought her phone out. "**Do you still take your coffee the same as always or do you want a change? XX" she texted him**.

* * *

It was along queue at the coffee shop and Irene was beginning to get tired of waiting. Suddenly her phone alert went off. **"Why would I change it?"**

When she finally got to the end of the queue she ordered and began to make her way back to the crime lab. "Ah good you're back. Still no match."

"I told you that there wouldn't be." the pathologist spoke. Irene's phone rang. Mycroft. She picked up her phone. "Hello?...Yes we are…Not at the moment…I can't I am busy."

She ended the call. "What did my brother want now?" Sherlock asked.

"He was asking me if I remembered anything. You know it's late and we've been here all day."

"Perhaps Mycroft and the rest of his British Government can leave you alone for five minutes. I'm surprised he didn't send someone to get you while you were getting coffee. Why don't you go ahead to the hotel. I'll stay here. Some things that I want to double check."

"You sure?"

"Of course."

She kissed Sherlock's cheek and then went to leave, when a scientist ran up to the door and opened it. "Hello again." Irene smiled.

"I am also going your way." he spoke in English. "I must go to the car park."

So she ended up walking alongside him. Something about him did not seem at all right, and she was keeping herself on constant alert as they reached the elevator.

"Mycroft would like to see you."

"Mycroft?"

"He asked me to escort you. I'm not a scientist. I work for him."

"But…"

"He said no buts whatsoever."

"Of course." Irene sighed. She was led to the car park and then into a car. "At least it will save me a walk."

As she sat in the car she began to get suspicious about something. _"Mycroft? What's supscious about Mycroft…Because Mycroft's lackeys do not use his first name."_

The car suddenly stopped in an old car parking lot. "Come with me." spoke the anonymous 'scientist'.

Irene stared at him for a moment as she wondered what to do. She put her hands in her pockets and quickly used the knowledge of the way her phone worked to text Sherlock from the inside of her pocket.

"Mycroft does not like to be kept waiting."

"You must be on good terms with Mycroft."

"He is but a leader."

"You speak good English too. By the looks of it you are an ex surgeon. Ex-American surgeon. You did not appear on any hospital database, suggesting that you were a surgeon in the army? No. You're not built like a soldier…."

"Would you care to get out of the car for me, Miss Adler."

She texted Sherlock again.

"You know my name. Kind of you to look me up." she said to him.

"The moment I saw you I recognised you. The author of the most deadliest, and detailed crime and thanks to that I've picked up a few manoeuvres on how to commit murder without being caught."

"But you left DNA, and blood at two different crime scenes, it's hardly being careful."

"But my DNA is on no database. Not much to worry about!"

"Stupid. You left your DNA and blood at a crime scene to which…_Sherlock Holmes had gone to!_"

She didn't say the last part out loud, in fear of blowing Sherlock's cover.

"Out of the car now!"

"Why did you kill those women and their husbands?"

"Not all of them were married. Just like you and your friend Anthony."

"Anthony? What do you want with Anthony?"

"I am trying to send off a message to the people who've pissed me off! I think if I kill you, a respected author of America, then they'll have to sort out their mistake. You're going down like the other victims. As an author you know what's going to happen, don't you?"

"Tell me who are you trying to get back at?"

"None of your business."

Irene stepped out of the car and went to strike him in the jugular but he fought back and then she did a technique she'd learned from Norton but it was blocked. Irene's eyes widened. "Pretty hefty moves for a girl!"

"I'm not a girl."

"Whatever." he replied before striking her in the neck and knocking her to the ground, rendering her unconscious.

She was not a girl, she was a woman. Better still The Woman, and the ex-American surgeon, had no idea at that moment in time whose woman she was and what connections Sherlock Holmes had, but most importantly he did not know the reasons why The Woman was deemed with that honourable title, and that was his biggest mistake.

* * *

Sherlock still sat in the lab. He tried to text Irene but his phone had no signal in the crime lab. It would appear one moment and then cut out for ages. The door opened and in came his brother. "Mycroft. How awfully good to see you. What brings you here?"

"I am here to see your Woman." Mycroft stated. "If she can't come to me, I've come to her. If Mohammad can't bring the mountain to him then he himself must go to the mountain."

"I think the only mountain here is you. How is the diet?" Sherlock asked. "The Woman is not here by the way she went back to the hotel. Tired."

"She couldn't have gone back there? When did she leave?"

"An hour ago."

"She never came back to the hotel. It's half an hour's walk and…"

Sherlock drew a puzzled expression. "Where could she have gone?"

Sherlock suddenly heard his text alert go off. "That will be her now." Sherlock thought aloud. He read her text message and his eyes widened.

"**I think I've been kidnapped. Don't panic."**

He looked at the next message. **"I think it's the serial killer!"**

"Anyway I would not worry too much on this serial killer. American secret service and my government are taking over the case."

"Why would you be taking over the case? Don't you have enough problems?"

"Sherlock we get around a hundred and twenty a day."

"This serial killer, who is he? You must know. These people are not of importance to you but the person doing it must be. He doesn't appear on any database. His finger prints don't exist…"

"You just concentrate on winning Miss Adler's heart like you've been doing the last few months Sherlock. Go find her!"

"I CAN'T BECAUSE HE HAS HER!"

"Norton?"

"No the man you are after!"

Mycroft's eyes widened in horror.

"Now you tell me right now Mycroft, who is he!"

* * *

Irene woke up with pain in her hands. She was nailed to the floor in someone's basement. "I just took it upon myself to use this brand new house that's not been sold yet for you to die. Dying in a hotel is not as…how would you say it Irene in your books? Interesting? Frightening? Thrilling? Either way it'll all be over for you in a few days, but as for Anthony I am going to kill him right now. You lie there dying while you think of him."

"You've seen him. You'll only cut yourself on his bones especially his cheekbones trying to do it."

"That's my look out. But first of all I need to give you your poison."

"Who are you?" Irene asked. "You're a surgeon but you have knowledge in secret service self-defence techniques. Were you secret service? A secret service agent…but you're a doctor…"

"Do you always question everything? Is that what you novelists do?"

"I'm getting close aren't I?"

"I finally found out who Mycroft was. I realised how familiar his name was. He's British Government! I saw him a couple of times. Then I thought back to the conversation you were having with 'Anthony' Mycroft's brother. I don't recall Mycroft Holmes having a brother named Anthony. His brother was Sherlock Holmes."

Irene swallowed. "As soon as I kill him it'll be made public that the fake suicide genius was running and his name will be tarnished yet again."

"_John…Mrs Hudson…Lestrade." thought Irene. "They'll die too! He's going to kill them! I have to do something! What?"_

"Now where did I put that syringe for the poison?"

"_Stall him! I need to stall him! I need to stall him!"_

Her hands were aching from the nails. "I'll tell you where you can put it when you find it if you like?"

He shot her a look for her comment. "What's bugging me most of all is how quickly you knew who Sherlock was after you remembered Mycroft Holmes."

"I couldn't forget Mycroft Holmes' little brother. I would hear him converse with people around me in the tower. 'My dear little brother is solving more crimes. Dear little brother Sherlock has passed his university degree at Oxford! Dear little Sherlock that…"

Irene began to laugh. "Typical sibling rivalry huh? You've got to love Mycroft he is so sweet sometimes. So is his brother and if you even dare go to hurt him I will kill you and that is a friendly promise not a friendly warning!"

"I think I've found the poison now!"

"What's your name?"

"It won't matter."

"Fine then."

"It won't matter to Sherlock Holmes either, when I cut his throat. I might use a blunter instrument and make it painful."

Without thinking on it Irene forced her hands through the nails, and ignored the excruciating pain – with struggle of course – and stood up. She kicked the syringe out of the surgeons hands and knocked it to the ground. At the moment she'd the upper hand because of the element of surprise but she'd done damage to arteries in her hand and she was losing blood quickly. She was determined however to save Sherlock's identity and to protect John, Mrs Hudson and Lestrade.

"Wow, that's never happened before."

He struck to the ground, who losing her sigh with the loss of blood. She was becoming dizzy and she felt ill. She kicked back and knocked him in the face, before standing up again, only to fall to the ground with loss of balance.

She looked around for her phone where she kept her coat but there was no sign of it. Then she saw a knife on the table. She had to plan carefully. She couldn't just grab it and kill him. She waited at the table acting as though she was taken a stance to fight, forcing herself to remained balance. He went to strike at her again but she dodged and grabbed the knife before bringing it to his neck and sliding it across his throat the way he'd done to the male victim's. Afterwards she fell to the ground on all fours and she began to crawl to the stairs.

She made her way up with tears in her eyes, at the fear of not seeing Sherlock again. She found herself in a hallway suddenly and her coat was over the banister. She tried to grab her phone but it fell on the ground with the inability to control her painful and shaking, and blood leaking hands.

She dialled Sherlock's number eventually. "Sherlock, I don't know where I am. But he's…"

"Are you alright?"

"Not really no Sherlock."

"What's wrong? Where is he?"

"He's dead…he was…He knew you were still…Sherlock I…I…"

"Irene we've traced the call…I'm coming. I promise. I'm coming…Irene…Irene answer. Woman answer me now!"

She couldn't answer him, she'd closed her eyes and lost consciousness.

TBC

* * *

A/N Sorry for the late update, but it's been hard trying to piece this together. I've neglected my stories a bit, and I will be updating when I can. I've got NCIS, Huntik and my other Sherlock one to do. I have almost finished this one but there will be a sequel to come. This is more like a short novel of Irene and Sherlock breaking boundaries and being in love (bet you thought it would be at least forty chapters?)

Thanks for all the reviews guys. It's been kind of you. As for the name, it looks like Sherlene will be Irene and Sherlock's daughter. But, for those of you who like Caledonia, it will be the name of their daughter in…dare I say it? My Wholock? Yes I need to finish my other ones first. I know. I know.


	14. TheEnd

"She'll be alright Sherlock." Mycroft assured his brother – who was staring through the window in the hospital corridor and right into Irene's hospital room. She was chalk white, and it pained him to see her that way. But he would not admit it, except perhaps to himself and her. There was no more self-denial anymore, but only denial to those around him.

"They'll be a lasting mark on each hand though. Very traumatic I believe." Mycroft continued.

"She'll still be able to play piano." Sherlock replied shortly.

"I am not insulting her at all I am telling you of her condition and what to expect. I am tired of watching you live away without friends, or company of any sort. I have Dr John Watson to thank for putting up with you."

"Is that you and your concern, Mycroft?" Sherlock snapped around to his brother.

"Yes, Sherlock. It is."

"I don't need it." Sherlock replied.

"It does not matter where you live, how much money you've got, what drugs you've took, how much you're smoking or how old you get Sherlock. You are still my younger brother and I care about you."

Sherlock swallowed; he felt a lump in his throat.

"You and mother were all I had Sherlock, and now she's gone you're all I have. As much of a stubborn on going pain you are, I'd like to keep you alive."

"I am sorry." he apologised. "I was rude, and horrible. Forgive me Mycroft."

"I always do." Mycroft replied. "Even when you don't say you're sorry."

Irene began to show signs of waking up. "You better go in there Sherlock."

"I don't think…"

"It wasn't a suggestion."

Mycroft walked away, swinging his umbrella and Sherlock made his way into Irene's room. He couldn't help but swallow at the sight of the square dressings on either side of both hands. He picked up her right hand and kissed it gently, which brought her fully awake. "Sherlock." she uttered.

"Mycroft's sorting everything out before you panic."

"He had to be ex CIA or something. He knew unique secret services moves but he wasn't built like a soldier, and he had the capability as a surgeon."

"He was one for a CIA in cooperation with British Intelligence palaver and he went rouge to cut to basics." Sherlock replied. "Are you alright?"

"Yes. I am fine."

Sherlock put his hand on her cheek and used his thumb to wipe away a tear. "I killed him Sherlock."

"Don't worry Mycroft is dealing with the body."

"But I…"

"You've never killed anyone before and nor did you ever feel the need. I know. You used rubber bullets instead of real ones. Everything is defence rather than attack. You're too kind that's your problem, even with me.

"Of course I will be kind to you. You've saved my life."

"But you saved mine on countless occasions. By the way Mycroft has expressed his best wishes for your health – although he does want to get that microchip before the CIA does. He's giving us a lift back to New Jersey. Norton's bunked off to New Zealand for a while."

"Of course, yes I forgot about that chip."

"Je suis désolé monsieur, mais c'est la famille seulement. Je vais devoir vous demander de quitter." a nurse spoke as she came into the room. She was asking Sherlock to leave.

Sherlock did not want to leave Irene on her own. He knew the brave face she was putting on was 'put on'. "Mais je suis son fiancé." he replied.

The nurse sighed and let him stay and then Irene asked if she could leave. In fact she insisted upon it and soon she was leaving with Sherlock. "Thank you for backing me up in there and staying with me." Irene said gratefully as Sherlock looked for transport.

"Hmm? Oh yes it was my obligation."

"Oh right I see I saved your life in away and…"

"Oh well there is that but there is also the obligation in the sense that you're** my** Woman. I think I see a taxi now."

When they got back to hotel Irene sat down on the sofa and began to look at her hands. "Should I get you tea or something?" Sherlock asked her.

"No thank you dear."

"I am sorry this is my entire fault. I should not have let you go out on your own."

"I am not a child Sherlock I am capable. It was my usual naivety that caused this to happen. I was too tired to think properly. It was never your fault Sherlock, and you're not the only one who enjoys a mystery or gets bored."

"At the expense of your life, though?"

"Don't you risk your life for the end of your boredom."

"I'm different."

"Why is that then?"

He sat beside Irene and looked into her eyes. He swallowed. "Because back then I had no heart and didn't care. It's different now. I almost lost you, and it made me realise that."

He leaned in and touched her lips with his and she began kissing back. "**I do love you**." Sherlock said when they broke away. "There is no question left anymore and I have no need to be afraid of my feelings around you."

"There is never any need at all, Sherlock especially around me."

"Wait a minute I said I love you and I didn't hear you say it back." Sherlock replied animatedly.

"Mr Holmes I do apologise allow me to sit here and say that I am indeed in love with you and in fact I am [SHER]Locked. Are you happy now?"

"I suppose it will do for now." he replied.

"How about this then?" Irene replied before kissing him.

* * *

Mycroft opened the door to Irene and Sherlock's hotel room the next morning to find Sherlock sitting up, awake and drinking coffee.

"Brother?"

"Oh hello Mycroft." Sherlock spoke without looking up to his brother.

"Where is Irene?"

"Through there." Sherlock pointed to his room.

"Isn't that your…" began Mycroft.

Irene suddenly appeared in the door way wearing Sherlock's dressing gown. "Mycroft I wasn't expecting you so soon."

"Yes but since you've left the hospital there is absolutely no need for you to stay in Paris anymore. The sooner you get back to Newark the better. I will be escorting you myself."

"What time are we leaving?" Irene asked.

"In two hours."

"I better get dressed then." Irene replied. "I'll be just a moment."

She walked to her own room and closed the door behind her, while Mycroft wore an amused grin the whole time. Sherlock never saw it though, he was too busy looking at the ceiling.

"I was going to wait for a few years to take down Norton's network."

"I will help you but none of us can do it by ourselves. Do you think you could put our rivalry aside? Don't answer right now. When you're ready give me a call. I'll make sure everyone who needs it will be protected."

Sherlock breathed out a sigh before standing up and walking to the window. Mycroft sighed.

"I shouldn't have punched you." Sherlock said suddenly.

"Pardon?"

"When mother died I shouldn't have punched you."

"It's forgotten about." Mycroft replied.

Silence filled the hotel suite once again until Irene came out of the room and then they made their way to the airport to go back to Newark. On the way back, Irene slept on Sherlock's shoulder. Sherlock couldn't help but wondering what was going to happen next. But at that moment in time, he wanted one thing, or one person. Not just any person or any woman, but THE Woman and he did and for once in his life he didn't feel like an outcast or a freak.

THE END


End file.
